ARTHUR,  HORNBLOW 


<\ 


.*    I     01 


£3 


N 
o| 

Ql 

E 
w 


o  -p 

-p  et 

0&   Q) 

N 

P»  <i> 

<D  -P 
-P  Pi 
•P  -H 
•H 

f*4    C^ 


u)  O 
N  ct 


oJ  PJ 
•d^ 

r~*    ft  | 

3  o 

H  O 

«N  -H 

?H  rl 
<D 

£  3 
O  (3 
Pi  O 

<  S 
e  0) 

4 


I  *> 

I   -H 


VI     " 

•H    01 

O 

Ci_j   *v~9  Cft 

O  ^4 

ct  Pi 
<D  -p  2 

33          *ri 

U)    <*M 
01  -P 
X  & 
(DOtt 
rH    fH  -P 
PiU-H 
3    O 
O    »  *d 

o      P! 


•p     -P 
*»  PI 

jCj    Ql    <O 

•P  a>  2 
^i  -d  -p 
&  3  P5 

tiO-H   O 

P!  ci  f>i 

•H  »  p, 
r*  -H  0$ 

id  o  ci 

O  -H  T* 

•d  >  -d 


Their  lips  met  in  exquisite  embrace. 
Frontispiece. 


Page  137 


THE 

END  OF  THE  GAME 


H  Hovel 


BY 
ARTHUR  HORNBLOW 

Author  of  the  story,  "The  Lion  and  the  Mouse" 
Novelized  from  Charles  Klein's  Play 


"As  in  a  game  of  cards,  so  in  the  game  of  life, 
We  most  play  well  what  is  dealt  to  us." 


Illustrations  by 

A.  E.  JAMESON 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BT 
G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

[X  U  rig  Us  rettrvtd} 

bned  April  igth,  1907 

Second  printing  April  a6th 

Third  printing  May  7th 

Fourth  printing  Sept.  341)1 


TK2  EMC  OP  THE  GAME 


TO 

MY  WIFE 

THIS  BOOK 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 


2136294 


CONTENTS 

PART  I— MORNINS 

MM 

Chapter       I 13 

Chapter      II.      .......      .37 

Chapter    HI 60 

Chapter     IV 82 

Chapter      V 100 

Chapter     VI 118 

PART  II— NOON 

Chapter       I 141 

Chapter      II 160 

Chapter    III 184 

Chapter     IV 902 

Chapter      V ...  815 

Chapter     VI 2*9 

Chapter  VII 245 

Chapter  VIII 256 

Chapter     IX .271 

Chapter      X -      .      .  *go 


8  CONTENTS 

PART  III— NIGHT 

PAGE 

Chapter       I 315 

Chapter      II 333 

Chapter     III 352 

Chapter     IV 367 

Chapter      V 387 

Chapter     VI.. 397 

Chapter   VII 415 

Chapter  VIII 421 

Chapter     IX •      •  435 

Chapter      X.       •„..„,..  448 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FAGE 

Their  lips  met  in  exquisite  embrace  .  .  Frontispiece  137 
"  That  is  my  answer  t "  she  exclaimed  .  .  .  .127 
Choking,  he  groped  his  way  back  to  Eunice  .  .  .  270 
"  If  you  dont  go  I'll  have  the  servants  put  you  out ! "  396 


PART   I 
MORNING 

Heaven  from  all  creatures  hides  the  book  of  Fate, 

All  but  the  page  prescribed,  their  present  state. — POPE. 


The  End  of  the  Game 

CHAPTER   I 

HELP!  help!" 
A  woman's  shrill  cry  of  distress  sud- 
denly broke  the  peaceful  stillness  of  the 
vivid  green  woods  and  resounded  in  strident,  vibrat- 
ing notes  through  the  brambled  lanes  and  shaded 
glens.  The  startled  birds  ceased  singing  in  the  trees 
and  a  frightened  rabbit  dashed  helter-skelter  to  cover 
under  the  ragged  hedge  fringing  the  narrow  dusty 
road,  which,  like  a  long,  undulating  ribbon,  curved 
in  and  out  among  the  rows  of  noble  oaks  and  stretches 
of  open  farming  land  that  lay  between  this  picturesque 
wilderness  and  the  good  city  of  Boston. 

"  Help !  help !  help !  "  came  the  cry  again,  this  time  in 
crescendo  notes  of  terror,  as  if  the  peril  momentarily 
grew  more  terrifying.  Shriek  followed  shriek,  like 
waves  of  agonized  sound,  which  surged  up  and  gradu- 
ally spent  themselves  in  the  distance,  only  to  be  sent 
back  mockingly  by  the  far-off  blue  hills. 

The  danger  was  pressing,  that  was  evident.  A 
fellow-creature  in  distress  was  sending  forth  the 


14  THE   END   OF 

urgent  summons  which  human  instinct  impels  every 
other  living  being  to  respond  to  without  question. 
Yet  the  effort  appeared  to  be  in  vain.  Not  a  soul 
seemed  to  be  within  hearing  pf  those  heartrending 
appeals.  The  nearest  house  was  five  miles  away  and 
passers-by  few  and  far  between.  The  place  was 
known  as  Wexford  Woods,  a  somewhat  lonely  spot 
of  great  natural  beauty  situated  a  short  distance 
from  the  main  road  to  the  aristocratic  suburb  of 
Brookline.  The  land,  semi-mountainous  in  character, 
was  thickly  covered  with  timber,  and  through  its 
winding  foot  paths  and  in  its  dark  depths  of  tangled 
undergrowth  one  had  glimpses  of  the  primeval  forest. 
A  little  farther  on,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  road,  began  a  series  of  small  lakes  fed  by  a 
branch  of  the  Charles  River,  and  it  was  from  the 
first  of  these  that  came  the  alarm. 

Two  young  women,  one  about  sixteen,  the  other  a 
lew  years  her  senior,  were  floundering  in  the  water, 
while  a  small  rowboat,  bottom  side  up,  to  which  both 
were  clinging,  told  only  too  plainly  the  nature  of  the 
accident  that  had  befallen  them.  The  younger  girl, 
unable  to  swim,  clung  to  the  boat's  bottom  with  a 
tenacious  grip  born  of  despair,  and  her  large  brown 
eyes,  now  opened  wide  with  terror,  looked  beseech- 
ingly at  her  more  self-possessed  companion.  Every 
other  moment  she  gave  vent  to  the  agonizing  shrieks 
which  had  startled  the  animal  life  everywhere. 


THE   GAME  15 

The  elder  girl,  expert  in  the  useful  art  of  natation, 
was  swimming  round  the  boat,  making  desperate  ef- 
forts to  right  it,  but  in  her  long  skirts,  made  the 
heavier  by  the  weight  of  the  water,  she  found  it  al- 
most impossible  to  keep  afloat,  and  every  few  mo- 
ments she  was  compelled  to  desist  and  cling  to  the 
boat  to  save  herself  from  going  down.  They  were 
some  way  out  from  the  shore,  and  it  was  an  impos- 
sible task  to  push  the  boat  in.  They  could  only  hang 
on  and  shout,  on  the  slim  chance  that  some  one  would 
hear  them  and  come  to  their  aid.  But  no  sign  of 
alarm,  or  even  of  anxiety,  was  visible  dh  the  elder 
girl's  face.  Raising  her  own  voice,  she,  too,  shouted 
for  help  with  all  the  force  of  her  healthy  young  lungs. 
Then  she  spoke  quietly  and  reassuringly  to  hef  com- 
panion1 : 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Grace.  Just  keep  cool  and 
cling  to  the  boat.  Some  one  will  hear  us." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  Eunice/'  answered  the  younger 
girl,  "  I'm  terribly  frightened.  Suppose  no  one 
comes?  We  can't  hold  on  much  longer.  My  fingers 
are  numbed  already." 

Her  teeth  chattered  and  her  lips  were  turning  blue, 
a  condition  due  to  fright  rather  than  to  cold,  for 
the  day  was  warm.  The  young  woman  she  addressed 
as  Eunice  noticed  these  alarming  signs,  atnd  edged 
nearer  the  young  girl,  so  she  could  catch  her  and 
support  her  in  case  she  fell. 


1 6  THE    END    OF 

"  Courage,  Grace,  dear,"  she  pleaded.  "  Help  must 
come.  They  will  miss  us  at  the  house  and  come  in 
search  of  us.  God  will  not  desert  us  now.  Come, 
call  with  me.  Together !  " 

Both  girls  once  more  raised  their  now  fatigued 
voices  in  a  despairing  shout  for  succor. 

Assistance  was  closer  at  hand  than  they  dared  to 
hope. 

Roy  Marshall,  on  his  way  home  to  Alton  Court 
after  graduating  from  Yale  University,  had  left  the 
train  at  Dedham  in  order  to  make  a  trial  spin  of  the 
bran  new  automobile,  which,  if  satisfactory,  was  to 
be  a  gift  from  his  father  for  having  passed  success- 
fully through  college.  Larry  Gowan,  the  family 
chauffeur,  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  railroad  station 
with  the  machine — a  smart  $5,000  touring-car, 
painted  a  bright  red  and  luxuriously  appointed — and 
when  its  future  owner  caught  sight  of  it  as  he 
emerged  from  the  train  shed  with  a  crowd  of  other 
arrivals,  he  hastened  his  step,  his  face  aglow  with 
pleasure. 

Roy  Marshall  was  the  type  of  man  that  appeals 
particularly  to  women.  He  had  a  strong,  clear-cut 
face,  a  good  nose  and  a  well-shaped  mouth,  firm  and 
determined-looking  when  in  repose,  but  expanding 
readily  into  a  smile,  when  it  revealed  two  rows  of 
even  white  teeth.  Alert  brown  eyes,  quick  to  flash 


THE    GAME  17 

in  momenta  of  anger  or  excitement,  were  set  back 
deep  under  a  high  brow  surmounted  with  dark  wavy 
hair.  It  was  a  strong,  pleasant  face,  the  face  of  a 
man  born  to  take  a  dominant  position  in  life,  yet 
who  made  more  friends  than  enemies.  He  was  con- 
siderably over  medium  height  and  powerfully  built, 
his  square  shoulders  and  bronzed  face  suggesting 
plenty  of  rowing,  football  and  fresh  air  generally, 
while  he  had  about  him.  that  vague  yet  unmistakable 
atmosphere  of  culture  and  athletics  which  distinguishes 
the  college-bred  man.  A  stranger  might  have  guessed 
his  age  to  be  anywhere  between  twenty-eight  and 
thirty.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  not  yet  twenty- 
five.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  develop  early, 
and  his  serious,  self-confident  manner  made  him  ap- 
pear older  than  he  really  was. 

At  college  he  was  not  a  particularly  brilliant 
student,  save  in  one  branch,  of  which  he  was  very 
fond  and  in  which  he  excelled — applied  mechanics. 
His  natural  tastes  did  not  lean  towards  books,  but 
there  were  few  problems  in  mathematical  physics 
that  he  could  not  master  with  comparative  ease.  He 
discussed  with  facile  glibness  hydrodynamics,  kine- 
matics, the  laws  of  motion,  statics  of  rigid  solids  and 
other  principles  of  force  and  energy,  and  during  vaca- 
tion practically  his  only  recreation  was  pottering  on 
impossible  experiments  in  the  workshop  which  he  had 
fitted  up  near  the  stable  at  Alton  Court.  His  pro- 


i8  THE  END   OF 

fessors  and  college  chums  predicted  a  brilliant  career 
for  him  as  a  civil  engineer,  but 'Roy  shook  his  head. 
Mechanics  was  to  him  simply  a  pastime,  a  toy.  If 
he  were  to  look  on  it  as  work  to  be  undertaken 
seriously  it  would  cease  to  have  further  fascination 
for  him.  In  any  case,  why  should  he  waste  time  and 
nerve  tissue  studying  engineering  when  he  had  a 
career  all  cut  out  for  him  ?  It  was  only  a  question  of 
a  few  months  when  he  would  succeed  his  father  as 
head  of  the  well-known  firm  of  manufacturing  drug- 
gists, Marshall  &  Company,  in  Boston.  He  did  not 
think  his  taste  for  commercial  life  would  be  any 
keener  than  his  liking  for  books,  but  what  could  he 
do?  The  position  was  there,  ready-made,  waiting 
for  him.  His  father,  now  an  old  man,  had  held  it 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  and  it  was  inevitable  that 
he,  Roy,  should  succeed  him.  It  never  occurred  to 
him  that  any  other  course  was  open  to  him. 

So  the  young  man  set  about  preparing  himself  for 
the  important  position  in  the  world  of  commerce  that 
awaited  him.  He  had  the  sense  to  know  that  as  prin- 
cipal of  an  important  business  house  he  must  be  able 
to  understand  and  grapple  with  the  responsibilities 
of  commercial  life  when  he  was  face  to  face  with 
them.  He,  therefore,  neglected  the  prescribed  cur- 
riculum at  college  and  became  a  student  of  men  and 
human  nature  rather  than  of  books.  He  was  an 
omnivorous  newspaper  reader;  he  devoured  the  latest 


THE   GAME  19 

works  on  economic  questions;  he  delighted  in  dry 
statistics;  he  pored  over  stock-market  quotations;  he 
studied  the  wheat  reports;  he  kept  in  touch  with 
national  and  state  politics.  He  was  not  learned  in 
any  branch  of  knowledge,  but  he  could  talk  interest- 
ingly on  nearly  every  topic,  and  when  he  gave  any 
particular  subject  his  attention  he  generally  mastered 
its  details,  no  matter  how  difficult. 

He  was  not  industrious,  yet  when  driven  to  the 
wall  he  had  given  evidence  of  an  enormous  capacity 
for  hard  work  which  had  fairly  astonished  his  pro- 
fessors, and  sometimes  resulted  in  his  being  success- 
ful in  difficult  examinations  where  more  promising 
men  had  failed.  Another  quality  in  his  make-up, 
which  his  fellow-students  were  quick  to  discover,  and 
which  in  their  eyes  more  than  atoned  for  his  scho- 
lastic shortcomings  in  the  class-room,  was  his  prowess 
on  the  field.  In  the  college  athletics  he  soon  dis- 
played marked  executive  ability,  and  the  men  were 
not  slow  to  recognize  in  him  a  leader.  He  became 
captain  of  the  football  team,  and  twice  rowed  stroke 
in  the  'varsity  boat-race.  In  fact,  whatever  was 
going  on  in  the  way  of  strenuous  pastimes,  Roy 
Marshall  was  sure  to  be  the  directing  figure.  Once, 
in  midwinter,  during  a  heavy  snowstorm,  the  men 
built  two  opposing  forts,  divided  their  forces  and 
charged  each  other's  works  with  fraternity  yells  and 
snowballs.  Victory  fell  to  Marshall's  party,  because, 


20  THE   END    OF 

like  Napoleon  at  Brienne,  he  had  cleverly  out- 
manoeuvred the  enemy. 

For  this  reason,  and  also  because  he  spent  his 
liberal  allowance  freely,  Roy  was  popular,  and  little 
occurred  at  college  in  which  he  did  not  take  part. 
Yet,  as  a  general  thing,  he  held  aloof  from  their  more 
boisterous  pranks.  He  held  that  a  college  man  may 
be  fond  of  football  and  still  act  as  a  gentleman,  and 
he  had  little  patience  with  the  educated  young  hood- 
lums who  frequently  disgraced  their  alma  mater  in 
public  places.  He  had  also  managed  to  keep  clear 
of  scandal  in  any  form.  Not  that  he  was  a  prig. 
Far  from  it.  He  was  known  as  a  good  fellow  and 
generally  liked,  only  he  had  in  his  moral  make-up 
none  of  that  effervescent,  turbulent  exuberance  that 
most  young  men  of  his  age  think  is  necessary  to  get 
out  of  their  systems  before  they  can  settle  down  to 
anything  serious — a  process  called  sowing  one's  wild 
oats,  and  which,  when  it  yields  its  always  abundant 
harvest,  is  known  as  the  devil's  own  crop.  Roy  Mar- 
shal! had  sown  no  wild  oats,  not  because  his  morals 
were  any  better  than  the  next  man's,  but  simply 
because  that  sort  of  thing  did  not  appeal  to  him.  It 
was  merely  a  matter  of  temperament,  or  perhaps  the 
lack  of  it.  His  father  rejoiced  to  see  this  natural 
tendency  to  sedateness  in  his  son,  as  it  augured  well 
for  his  future. 

One  goal  Roy  Marshall  had  steadfastly  kept  before 


THE    GAME  21 

his  eyes  ever  since  he  had  ceased  being  a  child — 
success!  He  was  impatient  to  get  out  into  the 
world,  eager  to  essay  his  strength  in  the  battle  of  life. 
His  easy  optimism  encouraged  him  to  dream  of  high 
position  and  great  wealth.  He  was  ambitious  to 
make  a  great  name  to  astonish  the  world,  to  become 
immensely  rich.  Whether  his  father's  drug  business 
would  afford  him  the  opportunity  he  could  not,  of 
course,  tell  yet.  He  knew  it  yielded  a  good  income; 
they  had  always  been  comfortably 'off,  and  the  firm 
name,  Marshall  &  Company,  ranked  among  the  most 
important  in  the  country.  He  would  develop  it, 
build  it  up,  extend  it  until  it  became  the  biggest  con- 
cern in  the  world,  with  connecting  branches  in  every 
important  city  in  the  United  States,  crushing  or  ab- 
sorbing all  rival  concerns  until  Marshall  &  Company 
became  a  huge  trust  and  sole  dispenser  of  drugs  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  Roy  Marshall  was  still 
young.  In  this  first  flush  of  emancipation  from  the 
thraldom  of  school  life  he  did  not  stop  to  consider 
the  ethical  aspect  of  the  Napoleonic  business  course 
he  planned.  He  did  not  stop  to  consider  whether, 
morally,  it  was  right  or  wrong  to  build  up  his  own 
success  on  the  failure  of  others  ruined  by  him.  At 
the  present  hour  no  such  scruples  disturbed  his  day 
dreams.  Success!  Power!  That  was  his  aim — his 
ambition.  He  would  become  an  arbiter  in  the  com- 
mercial world.  This  was  the  lever  that  moved  him, 


22  THE   END   OF 

and  which  stirred  him  on  to  constant  effort.  Suc- 
cess! He  was  not  content  to  be  merely  a  rich  man's 
son;  he  would  show  the  world  that  he  had  it  in  him 
to  make  his  own  name  and  fortune.  If  he  had  gradu- 
ated from  college  with  only  average  honors,  at  least 
he  had  left  his  alma  mater  without  discredit,  and  it 
was  a  great  satisfaction  to  feel  that  his  school  years 
were  now  past  and  that  he  was  going  to  settle  down 
seriously  to  a  career  and  take  his  place  in  the  busy 
business  world. 

He  was  feeling,  therefore,  in  particularly  good 
spirits  on  this  splendid  June  afternoon,  and  he  had 
returned  Larry's  respectful  salute  with  a  more  cor- 
dial nod  than  usual. 

"  She's  a  beauty,  and  no  mistake,  Larry ! "  he 
cried,  as  he  walked  all  around  the  machine,  inspect- 
ing every  part  of  it  with  the  critical  air  of  an  expert. 
He  knew  by  heart  the  construction  of  all  the  leading 
makes  of  automobiles,  and  he  was  as  competent  to 
make  repairs  in  the  event  of  a  breakdown  as  any  pro- 
fessional chauffeur.  There  was  not  a  screw,  not  a 
rivet  that  he  was  not  thoroughly  familiar  with,  and 
the  technology  of  motordom — chassis,  spark  plugs, 
carburetors,  igniters,  clutch,  transmission,  etc.,  etc. — 
so  bewildering  to  the  layman,  was  at  the  tip  of  his 
tongue. 

"  Shure !  She's  a  daisy — she  is  that !  "  replied  the 
man  with  enthusiasm.  "  I'm  jist  after  comin'  from 


THE    GAME  23 

the  Court  wid  her,  an'  she  flew  as  if  the  divil  'isself 
was  after  her — so  she  did." 

Larry  Gowan  was  a  smart  Irish  lad  who  was  for- 
merly a  bell-boy  in  Boston.  Mr.  Marshall,  senior, 
had  noticed  him  while  stopping  at  the  hotel  where 
he  was  employed,  and  finding  that  he  was  both  in- 
telligent and  honest  had  offered  him  a  place  as  handy 
man  at  Alton  Court,  where  he  soon  made  himself  a 
general  favorite. 

"  Start  her  up,  Larry,"  said  his  master,  jumping  in. 
"We'll  be  off!" 

The  man  gave  the  crank  half  a  dozen  vigorous 
turns,  and  climbed  up,  while  Roy  took  his  place  on  the 
driver's  seat  and  gave  the  steering  wheel  a  scientific 
twist.  He  pulled  a  lever,  and  slowly  the  ponderous 
machine  moved  majestically  out  of  the  railroad  sta- 
tion. 

The  young  driver,  delighted  as  a  child  with  a 
new  toy,  headed  for  home  and  pushed  the  throttle 
right  over.  The  splendid  car  instantly  leaped  forward 
with  a  convulsive  bound,  as  if  it  were  some  living 
thing  responding  to  the  whip,  and  in  a  few  seconds 
they  were  doing  a  thirty-mile-an-hour  clip  along  the 
dusty  country  road.  The  pace  was  fast,  and  Roy 
nodded  approvingly  at  the  chauffeur  as  he  noted  the 
smoothness  of  the  running  gear  and  the  ease  with 
which  the  car  could  be  handled. 

"  She's    all    right,    Larry.     She's    a   winner ! "   he 


24  THE    END    OF 

shouted.  They  were  moving  so  fast  that  the  wind 
drowned  his  voice. 

"  Shure !  It's  yourself  will  be  using  her  all  the 
time  now  you're  home  for  good,  sorr." 

"  Yes,  Larry — no  more  school  for  me.  I'm  through 
with  Greek  and  Latin  and  mathematics.  Now  I'm 
going  to  be  a  business  man.  I'll  make  things  hum  in 
that  place  of  ours  in  Boston ! " 

The  young  man  drew  himself  up,  and  a  set,  deter- 
mined expression  came  into  his  face,  as  if  he  were 
full  of  bold  schemes  for  extending  his  father's  busi- 
ness, and  already  felt  the  cares  and  responsibilities 
of  a  commercial  career. 

"  Your  father'll  be  glad  of  that— he  will  so,"  said 
Larry.  "  He's  an  old  gentleman  to  have  such  a  care 
on  his  hands — sure  he  is  that." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Roy  loftily,  "  I  guess  my  father  will 
be  glad  to  have  me  to  relieve  him.  That's  why  -the 
governor  is  giving  me  this  machine — to  celebrate  my 
becoming  a  member  of  the  firm."  Then,  changing 
the  subject,  he  asked :  "  How's  everyone  at  the  Court 
— mother,  Grace,  the  Merricks?" 

"They're  all  foine  as  silk — that's  what  they  are, 
sorr,  except  the  master,  and  he's  got  a  touch  of  the 
gout.  Mrs.  Merrick  and  Miss  Merrick  is  there  every 
day.  They  wus  at  the  Court  when  I  came  away,  and 
I  guess  they're  there  still  awaitin'  for  vou,  sorr." 

"Ugh!  "grunted  Roy. 


THE    GAME  25 

It  was  unwelcome  news.  He  hated  to  find  stran- 
gers when  he  arrived  home.  He  had  much  to  talk 
about  with  his  mother  and  sister,  and  he  could  not 
say  anything  save  inane  conventionalities  in  the  pres- 
ence of  outsiders,  for  he  insisted  that  the  Merricks 
were  outsiders  despite  the  fact  that  they  were  ma- 
noeuvring hard  to  insinuate  themselves  into  the  family 
circle.  A  frown  passed  over  the  young  man's  face, 
and  he  bit  his  lip  as  he  thought  of  the  tacit  under- 
standing entered  into  with  his  father — that  on  his 
return  from  college  he  would  ask  Lucy  Merrick  to 
be  his  wife.  The  girl  had  money — lots  of  it — and 
money  was  necessary  to  develop  Marshall  &  Com- 
pany on  a  big  scale.  Of  course  she  did  not  care 
for  him  any  more  than  he  did  for  her.  It  was  to  be 
a  marriage  of  convenience.  They,  the  Marshalls,  were 
an  old  family  with  social  prestige  and  all  the  rest  of 
it,  while  the  Merricks  were  parvenus  of  mushroom 
growth,  sprung  up,  in  a  night,  from  nowhere.  All 
they  had  to  offset  the  Marshall  genealogical  tree 
was  unlimited  credit  at  the  bank.  This  trafficking 
with  money  on  one  side  and  birth  and  position  on 
the  other  had  revolted  and  disgusted  Roy.  He  balked 
at  the  girl,  and  at  first  would  not  hear  of  the  match. 
Like  most  young  men  fired  with  ambition  to  achieve 
big  things  in  the  world,  he  had  entertained  no  de- 
sire to  marry  early.  As  a  rule,  it  is  the  poor  man 
who  marries  young — the  man  who  isjonely  and  con- 


26  THE   END    OF 

tent  with  little.  The  man  whose  head  is  filled  with 
schemes  for  fortune  building  has  no  time  for  matri- 
mony. Selfish  to  what  he  wrongfully  thinks  are  his 
best  interests,  he  lets  his  youth  slip  away,  and  when} 
as  the  years  pass,  he  realizes  his  loneliness,  he  sees 
he  has  made  a  mistake,  and  that  home  building  and 
not  fortune  building  should  be  the  object  of  every 
man.  But  then  it  is  too  late,  and  he  remains  a  sour, 
disgruntled  bachelor,  a  pariah  from  the  human  family 
the  rest  of  his  days,  with  no  one  for  his  companion 
in  his  old  age,  no  one  to  console  his  dying  moments, 
no  one  to  shed  a  tear  over  his  grave. 

Roy  had  never  been  particularly  attached  to 
women.  If  he  had  thought  of  marriage  at  all,  it 
was  as  of  something  away  off  in  the  distant  future. 
Marriage  now,  he  insisted,  would  seriously  hamper 
his  career.  But  when  one  night  his  father  came  to 
his  rooms  at  college  and  dramatically  put  the  situa- 
tion before  him,  revealing  to  him  for  the  first  time 
that  the  condition  of  Marshall  &  Company  was  not  as 
prosperous  as  the  world  supposed,  and  that  the  gold 
of  the  Merricks  was  necessary  to  avert  financial  ruin, 
he  allowed  himself  to  be  talked  into  taking  a  more 
practical  and  favorable  view  of  this  marriage,  the 
very  idea  of  which  had  previously  been  abhorrent  to 
him.  Marshall,  senior,  had  asked  him  to  consider 
the  matter  carefully,  and  to  do  nothing  he  might 
regret  later,  but  at  the  same  time  the  old  gentleman 


THE    GAME  27 

was  careful  to  point  out  the  advantages  of  making 
a  rich  marriage  and  to  lay  stress  on  the  discomforts 
and  terrors  of  comparative  poverty.  Money,  he  de- 
clared, meant  position,  power,  recognition  by  the 
world,  while  poverty  meant  humiliation,  obscurity, 
social  ostracism.  Confronted,  therefore,  with  this 
critical  situation  at  a  moment  when  the  young  man 
thought  he  must  neglect  nothing  to  assure  his  future, 
it  is  not  surprising  that  Roy  Marshall  began  to  look 
on  this  matrimonial  arrangement  with  less  aversion. 

Yet  it  was  by  no  means  popular  with  him.  He  cer- 
tainly would  not  have  sought  it,  but  it  had  come  to 
him,  it  had  been  imposed  on  him,  and  under  the 
stress  of  peculiar  circumstances  he  had  accepted  it 
along  with  the  other  necessary  evils  of  life.  After 
all,  he  argued  to  himself,  if  he  were  obliged  to 
marry,  perhaps  Lucy  Merrick  was  as  good  as  any 
other  woman.  She  seemed  a  harmless  kind  of  girl, 
over-fond  of  dress  and  rather  silly,  but  she  was 
amiable  enough,  and  probably  knew  how  to  enter- 
tain and  manage  servants.  If  he  were  going  to 
make  a  success  in  the  world,  he  would  have  to  en- 
tertain a  great  deal,  and  so  perhaps  Lucy  Merrick 
was  just  the  kind  of  wife  he  needed. 

The  car  by  this  time  had  entered  the  stretch  of 
wild,  uncultivated  timber  lands  known  as  Wexford 
Woods,  and  the  cool  shade  afforded  by  the  majestic 
oaks  that  lined  both  sides  of  the  road  was  grateful 


28  THE    END    OF 

after  the  hot  glare  of  the  sun.  The  machine  was 
moving  so  fast  that  the  trees  flying  past  gave  the 
impression  of  a  rapidly  moving  panorama. 

"  She's  a  flyer,  and  no  mistake !  "  shouted  Roy, 
delighted  at  the  speed — forty  miles  an  hour — recorded 
by  the  speedometer. 

"  Yes,  sorr !  "  shouted  back  Larry.  "  Miss  Grace 
got  scared  yesterday — she  did  so.  I  took  she  and 
Miss  Vincent  out  for  a  spin,  and  Miss  Grace  was 
frightened  out  of  her  life,  so  she  was." 

"  Miss  Vincent  ?  "  echoed  Roy,  puzzled.  "  Who 
the  devil  is  Miss  Vincent  ?  " 

"  Shure,  sorr,  it's  Miss  Grace's  governess.  It's  a 
foine  lady  she  is.  As  quiet  and  refined  as  a  perfect 
lady,  and  that's  the  way  with  her." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  now.  My  mother  wrote 
me  about  her.  Don't  fall  in  love  with  her,  Larry. 
Governesses  are  almost  as  dangerous  as  widows. 
They're  designing  females !  " 

Roy  chuckled  at  his  own  pleasantry. 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  replied  Larry  seriously.  "  Miss 
Vincent's  not  for  such  as  me.  She's  a  governess 
maybe,  and  has  to  earn  her  own  livin',  like  meself, 
but  I  know  my  place,  sorr — I  do  that." 

"  Where's  Grace  to-day  ?  "  demanded  Roy. 

He  asked  the  question  more  to  change  the  subject 
rather  than  out  of  any  real  concern  for  his  sister. 
He  loved  her,  of  course,  in  indifferent  brotherly 


THE    GAME  29 

fashion,  but  he  never  worried  about  her,  because  it 
never  entered  his  head  that  she  could  come  to  harm. 
But  the  man's  chatter  about  the  governess  was  be- 
coming tiresome.  Secretly,  Roy  had  not  approved  of 
this  new  addition  to  the  family  circle.  They  not  only 
had  the  Merricks  to  bother  them,  but  now  there  was 
this  governess  as  well.  His  sister  was  delicate  and 
could  not  go  to  school,  and  he  knew  it  was  necessary 
to  get  some  one  to  help  her  with  her  studies,  but  this 
idea  of  having  a  school  "  marm "  round  the  house 
all  the  time,  listening  to  conversations,  prying  into 
everybody's  business,  was  distasteful  to  say  the  least. 
If  she  were  only  good-looking,  he  thought;  but  trust 
his  mother  for  that.  As  in  the  case  of  most  gov- 
ernesses selected  for  homes  where  there  are  grown- 
up sons,  his  mother  had  probably  picked  out  the 
homeliest  girl  she  could  find. 

Answering  his  query,  Larry  said: 

"  Miss    Grace   went   boating   with    the   governess, 
sorr." 

"The  governess  again?"  ejaculated  Roy,  with  a 
smile  that  he  could  not  suppress. 

"  Yes,  sorr,"  repeated  Larry,  not  heeding  the  in- 
terruption. "  Miss  Grace  went  rowing  with  the 
governess.  They  are  somewhere  on  Wexford  Lake. 
They  took  the  small  boat  out.  I  cautioned  them  to 
be  careful.  Miss  Vincent  can  swim,  and  I  guess 
they'll  be  all  right." 
V 


3o  THE   END   OF 

"Hark!  What's  that?"  interrupted  Roy,  his  hand 
instinctively  clutching  the  brake. 

From  the  depths  of  the  woods  to  the  right  of  them 
came  a  girl's  scream,  and  then  another.  It  was  some 
distance  away,  yet  distinct  enough.  Some  one  was 
in  trouble.  Roy  turned  pale.  He  thought  he  recog- 
nized the  voice.  Anxiously  he  turned  to  Larry. 

"Where  did  you  say  my  sister  went?" 

"  On  Wexford  Lake,  with  the  governess.  That's 
hereabouts,"  he  added,  pointing  ahead. 

As  he  spoke,  another  shriek,  louder  and  more  dis- 
tressing than  the  first,  broke  upon  their  ears.  No 
further  doubt  was  possible.  His  sister  and  her  com- 
panion were  in  serious  trouble  of  some  sort. 

"  It's  they,  Larry,  sure  as  thunder !  I  recognize 
Grace's  voice.  Quick!  There  is  not  a  moment  to 
be  lost!" 

Feverishly  Roy  pushed  the  throttle  lever  over  to 
the  extreme  notch,  and  the  car  fairly  flew,  both  men 
bending  eagerly  forward  trying  to  catch  the  exact 
location  of  the  screams. 

"  If  they're  on  the  lake,  sorr,  it's  over  yonder  at 
the  bend,"  shouted  Larry,  pointing  a  mile  farther  up 
the  road. 

"  All  right.  We'll  stop  there.  You'll  stand  by  the 
machine,  while  I  go  and  investigate." 

In  another  couple  of  minutes  they  had  pulled  up 
bv  the  side  of  the  ditch,  and  Roy,  jumping  from  the 


THE    GAME  31 

machine,  vaulted  over  the  hedge  and  disappeared 
among  the  trees.  He  ran  rapidly  for  some  distance, 
forcing  his  way  as  best  he  could  through  the  tangled 
branches.  Then  he  stopped,  puzzled  by  the  unfamiliar 
paths,  uncertain  in  which  direction  to  proceed.  The 
sounds  of  the  highway  behind  him  gradually  ceased 
and  died  away.  An  almost  oppressive  silence  fell  from 
the  treetops.  He  hoped  that  there  would  be  another 
scream.  There  was.  It  was  distressing,  but  it  told 
him  where  to  run,  and  he  set  off  again,  making  as 
quick  progress  as  was  possible  through  the  treach- 
erous undergrowth.  He  stumbled  a  dozen  times,  but 
he  scrambled  to  his  feet  again  and  ran  on,  spurred 
to  his  fastest  by  more  shrieks.  There  was  no  doubt 
possible  now — it  was  his  little  sister  Grace.  Good 
God!  If  anything  happened  to  her  how  could  he 
go  home  with  the  news?  It  would  kill  his  mother. 
He  pushed  on  in  feverish  haste,  over  the  enormous 
roots  of  great  gnarled  trees,  climbing  precipitous 
knolls,  until  suddenly  he  emerged  into  the  open,  where 
a  broad  expanse  of  shimmering  water  lay  before  him. 
At  first  Roy  could  see  nothing.  The  strong  light 
reflected  from  a  clear  liquid  sky  was  blinding  after 
the  semi-obscurity  of  the  woods.  But  by  shading  his 
eyes  he  made  out  something  white  floating  on  the 
water,  and  near  it  was  an  upturned  boat,  drifting. 
He  did  not  need  to  be  told  any  more.  It  was  his 
sister.  He  could  see  her  plainly  now.  She  was 


32  THE   END,  OF 

clinging  to  the  boat,  and  on  the  other  side  was  an- 
other person,  he  did  not  know — the  governess,  of 
course.  He  ran  down  the  bank  to  the  edge  of  the 
water,  shouting  and  gesticulating  as  he  went.  The 
two  girls  saw  him  coming,  and  shouted  back  a  feeble 
reply — a  glad  shout  that  sounded  like  a  grateful 
prayer  to  Heaven. 

Roy  was  a  powerful  and  expert  swimmer,  and  such 
a  rescue  as  this  was  the  merest  child's  play  to  him, 
even  if  he  had  to  bring  them  both  in  at  the  same  time. 
As  they  were  supported  by  the  boat,  there  was  no 
immediate  danger  unless  they  should  become  exhausted 
and  this  was  his  chief  anxiety  as  far  as  his  sister  was 
concerned.  Throwing  off  his  coat  and  stripping  to 
his  undershirt,  he  took  a  running  plunge  from  a  dock, 
and  went  out  towards  them  through  the  water  with 
a  rapid  overhand  stroke  that  would  have  elicited  a 
cheer  from  a  professional.  But  there  was  no  one 
there  to  admire  his  skill — only  two  very  scared  and 
exhausted  young  women,  whose  one  thought  was  to 
be  saved  from  a  watery  grave. 

The  two  girls  watched  him  coming  with  the  same 
feelings  that  a  prisoner  condemned  to  die  might 
watch  from  the  scaffold  the  coming  of  a  horseman 
carrying  a  reprieve.  Grace  was  in  all  but  a  fainting 
condition,  and  could  not  have  held  out  much  longer. 
The  governess,  too,  had  all  she  could  do  to  keep  up. 

"  Thank  Heaven !  "  she  cried,  on  hearing  the  shout 


THE    GAME  33 

of  encouragement  from  the  shore  and  seeing  a  man 
jump  into  the  lake.  "  Some  one  has  seen  us.  He's 
swimming  out ! " 

"  It's  Roy,"  murmured  Grace  weakly. 

In  a  few  strokes  the  rescuer  was  up  to  them.  He 
threw  his  arm  around  Grace,  who,  directly  she  felt 
herself  safe,  collapsed  entirely  and  hung  limp  in  her 
brother's  grasp. 

"  She's  fainted,"  he  shouted  to  her  companion. 
Then  he  added,  "I'll  take  her  in.  Can  you  hold  on 
till  I  get  back?" 

The  girl  nodded. 

"  Yes — yes,"  she  answered  quickly.  "  Take  her  to 
shore!  Poor  child!  She's  frightened  to  death. 
Never  mind  about  me.  I  can  wait." 

The  young  man  took  his  sister's  inanimate  form  in 
his  strong  arms,  laid  her  flat  on  her  back  with  her 
head  well  out  of  the  water,  and,  floating  her  in  front 
of  him,  struck  out  for  the  shore.  Arrived  there,  he 
laid  Grace  down  on  the  grass,  not  stopping  to  re- 
vive her  while  another  rescue  was  to  be  made,  hur- 
ried back  to  the  water  and  swam  out  again  to  the 
boat. 

When  he  reached  the  governess  he  was  about  to 
take  her  in  the  same  manner  that  he  had  his  sister. 
But  she  said  it  was  not  necessary. 

"  I  can  swim  in,"  she  said.  "  It  was  my  long  skirt 
that  bothered  me.  If  you  will  swim  with  me,  and 


34  THE   END    OF 

help  me  if  I  need  it,  I  think  I  can  reach  the  shore." 

She  spoke  in  a  quiet,  dignified  tone,  and  with  as 
much  calmness  and  self-possession  as  if  she  were 
asking  him  to  escort  her  across  a  ball-room.  Only  a 
slight  tremor  in  her  voice  betrayed  the  mental  and 
physical  strain  she  had  been  under.  His  interest  was 
aroused,  and  he  glanced  at  her  curiously.  He  saw 
nothing  but  a  head  bobbing  up  and  down  in  the  water, 
covered  with  wet  hair  which  hung  all  over  her  face 
like  dank  seaweed.  Decidedly,  he  thought,  she  was 
not  a  beauty.  His  mother,  as  usual,  had  chosen 
judiciously. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.    "  Come  along." 

She  let  go  her  hold  of  the  boat,  which  they 
allowed  to  drift,  and  then  both  started  swimming  to 
the  bank,  he  affording  her  as  they  went  along  such 
support  as  she  appeared  to  need.  Their  progress  was 
necessarily  slow,  but  they  finally  reached  their  des- 
tination, and  when  at  last  she  staggered  up  the  muddy 
incline  in  her  soggy  clothes  she  was  panting,  and  so 
weak  from  exhaustion  that  she  would  have  fallen  had 
he  not  held  her. 

"  Excuse  me,"  she  murmured,  as  if  ashamed  of 
her  weakness.  "  It  is  the  reaction.  I  was  not  afraid, 
but  I  was  anxious  for  Grace." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ? "  he  demanded,  stooping 
over  the  still  unconscious  form  of  his  sister. 

"  We  were  changing  places  in  the  boat,"  she  an- 


THE   GAME  35 

X 

swered  simply.  "  Grace  overbalanced  herself.  She 
fell  against  the  side  and  the  boat  turned  turtle." 

Seizing  Grace's  hands,  she  began  to  slap  them  vig- 
orously, while  Roy,  who  had  some  matches  in  his 
coat  pocket,  lit  a  twig  and  put  the  smoke  to  the  young 
girl's  nostrils.  The  simple  remedy  was  effective. 
Grace  sneezed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  opened  her 
eyes.  Roy,  meanwhile,  was  shouting  with  stentorian 
lungs  for  Larry,  who  presently  appeared  at  a  run. 

"  Quick,  Larry,"  said  his  master.  "  We  must  get 
them  home  as  fast  as  we  can,  or  they  will  catch  their 

death  of  cold.  You  help  Miss "  He  hesitated, 

not  knowing  her  name. 

"  Vincent  is  my  name — Eunice  Vincent,"  said  the 
dripping  young  woman.  Then  she  added,  "  You  are 
Mr.  Roy  Marshall?" 

He  bowed  and  smiled.  This  unconventional  intro- 
duction struck  him  as  distinctively  humorous,  pre- 
senting as  they  both  did  the  appearance  of  drowned 
rats.  Their  eyes  met,  and  she  smiled  also.  He 
noticed  that  she  had  large  gray  eyes,  kind  and  gentle 
in  expression,  thoughtful  and  intellectual-looking.  A 
typical  school  "  marm,"  he  thought  to  himself.  Her 
hair  was  all  dishevelled  and  hanging,  dripping  down 
her  back,  the  water  forming  little  puddles  at  her  feet. 
Embarrassed  by  his  scrutiny,  she  gathered  up  her 
demoralized  tresses  and  tried  to  make  herself  more 
presentable,  but  the  effort  was  in  vain.  Water  was 


36  THE    END    OF 

running  off  every  part  of  her.  Her  waist  and  skirt, 
soaked  through,  clung  tightly  to  her,  outlining  every 
curve  of  her  slender  girlish  figure.  She  looked  a 
fright,  and  now  she  was  beginning  to  shiver.  He 
noticed  it,  and  motioned  to  Larry  to  give  her  his 
coat.  His  own  was  already  serving  to  keep  Grace 
warm. 

"  Come !  "  he  cried.  "  Let's  hurry  to  the  house  as 
fast  as  possible." 

Picking  up  Grace — a  slight  burden  for  his  mus- 
cular arms — Roy  led  the  way  rapidly  over  the  grasses 
and  stones,  in  and  out  the  trees,  back  to  the  place  on 
the  highway  where  they  had  left  the  automobile 
standing,  while  Miss  Vincent  followed  more  slowly, 
assisted  by  Larry  over  the  difficult  places.  a  It  took 
them  nearly  ten  minutes  to  reach  the  road,  but  once 
there,  both  girls  were  made  comfortable  in  the  ton- 
neau,  and  a  moment  later  the  machine  started  at  full 
speed  for  Alton  Court 


THE    GAME  37 


CHAPTER   II 

ALTON  COURT,  a  fine  example  of  colonial 
architecture  and  one  of  the  most  imposing 
residences  in  that  part  of  New  England,  had 
been  the  home  of  the  Marshalls  for  four  generations. 
It  was  built  by  the  present  occupant's  great-grand- 
father, a  merchant  prince  of  his  day,  shortly  after 
humiliated  England  and  the  high-spirited  colonists 
had  decided  to  make  peace,  and  in  those  dark,  un- 
certain days  of  our  history,  when  the  nation  was  still 
in  its  cradle  and  the  genus  millionaire  as  yet  unknown, 
a  mansion  of  such  consequence  was  uncommon  enough 
to  give  its  owners  no  inconsiderable  prestige  in  the 
community. 

Situated  about  fifteen  miles  southwest  of  Boston,  it 
stood,  a  conspicuous  landmark  in  the  midst  of  some 
forty  acres  of  ornamental  grounds,  enclosed  by  a 
stone  fence  covered  with  moss  and  lichen  and 
guarded  by  a  porter's  lodge.  The  house  itself  was 
built  of  Quincy  granite,  and  its  most  striking  feature 
was  the  spacious  entrance,  with  its  noble  columns,  at 
the  top  of  the  broad  flight  of  steps,  flanked  on  either 
side  by  small  firs  in  decorative  urns,  while  in  the 
centre  of  the  broad  lateral  terrace,  which  dominated 


38  THE    END    OF 

a  wide  sweep  of  thickly  timbered  park,  a  graceful  foun- 
tain danced  and  splashed  without  interruption.  The 
house  had  quaint  dormer  windows  that  never  failed 
to  arouse  the  enthusiasm  of  the  antiquarian,  and  run- 
ning the  entire  length  of  the  fagade  was  a  roomy 
balcony,  from  which,  in  days  gone  by,  many  a  stirring 
appeal  to  patriotism  had  been  made.  The  outer  walls 
were  mostly  covered  with  clinging  ivy,  and  here  and 
there  the  stone  was  crumbling  and  presenting  other 
symptoms  of  decay,  but  otherwise  the  venerable  man- 
sion was  in  an  excellent  state  of  preservation.  Inside, 
a  noble  panelled  hall  gave  access  to  a  monumental 
staircase,  adorned  on  either  side  with  ancestral  por- 
traits and  classic  statuary,  while  on  the  first  floor  to 
the  front  of  the  house  and  overlooking  the  park  were 
the  two  state  apartments,  which  from  time  immemo- 
rial had  been  reserved  for  guests  of  more  than 
ordinary  distinction.  George  Washington  himself 
spent  a  night  in  the  tapestry  chamber  during  his 
tour  of  New  England  in  the  fall  of  1789,  and 
Charles  Dickens  was^  also  entertained  at  Alton 
Court  during  the  famous  novelist's  first  American 
tour.  From  a  window  on  the  upper  stories  could  be 
seen  the  old  cemetery  at  Roxbury  where  are  interred 
the  bones  of  John  Eliot,  the  apostle  to  the  redskin. 

The  Marshall  family  was  one  of  the  oldest  and 
most  influential  in  the  country.  For  over  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  it  had  been  prominently  connected 


THE   GAME  39 

with  the  political,  commercial  and  social  history  of 
Massachusetts.  Of  English  origin,  the  first  Amer- 
ican ancestor,  if  not  actually  a  passenger  on  the 
historic  "  Mayflower,"  came  out  to  New  England  a 
few  years  later  and  took  an  active  part  in  establishing 
the  Plymouth  colony.  This  forbear  traced  his  tree 
back  to  the  Conquest,  when  one  Charles  Marechale 
crossed  the  Straits  of  Dover  in  the  train  of  William 
of  Normandy.  As  with  most  of  the  Conqueror's 
followers,  England  became  his  adopted  country  and 
in  the  course  of  time  the  name  was  anglicized.  The 
Marshalls  for  the  next  five  hundred  years  had  vary- 
ing fortunes,  and,  a  marked  family  trait  being  a  strong 
love  of  personal  liberty,  it  is  not  surprising  to  find 
them  often  involved  in  difficulties  with  the  established 
authorities.  Thus,  during  the  prosecutions  of  the 
Puritans  by  James  I.  we  learn  that  one  James  Mar- 
shall was  placed  in  the  stocks  in  London  for  having 
criticised  publicly  the  religious  rigors  of  the  day. 
This  was  the  ancestor  who  came  to  America.  He 
denounced  English  tyranny  and  intolerance,  sold  his 
property  and  became  a  leader  among  the  fugitive 
Puritans.  He  helped  them  in  their  plight  in  Holland 
and  was  instrumental  in  fitting  out  the  "  Speedwell " 
and  the  "  Mayflower,"  two  pygmy  vessels,  from  the 
loins  of  whose  passengers  was  destined  to  issue  a 
nation  of  giants. 

The  Marshalls  figured  conspicuously  all  through 


40  THE   END    OF 

the  early  struggles  of  the  colony,  and  when  a  hun- 
dred years  later  Massachusetts  rose  in  her  wrath  to 
resist  by  force  of  arms  the  greed  of  the  mother 
country,  a  Marshall  was  among  the  first  to  shoulder 
a  musket.  The  family  contributed  two  lives  to  the 
Revolutionary  War,  and  the  prowess  of  its  fighting 
men  was  made  the  subject  of  special  mention  in  Con- 
gress. In  the  Civil  War,  nearly  seventy  years  later, 
they  were  again  to  the  front,  Captain  Robert  Marshall 
being  among  the  first  officers  killed  at  the  battle  of 
Gettysburg.  In  more  recent  times  the  family  had 
enjoyed  civic  honors.  Twice  a  Marshall  had  been 
mayor  of  Boston  and  once  Governor  of  the  State. 
But  it  was  'in  commerce  that  they  had  made  their 
money,  and  the  present  head  of  the  house,  Robert 
Agard  Marshall,  was  the  founder  of  one  of  the  most 
important  drug  concerns  in  the  country. 

He  it  was  who  was  sitting  on  the  terrace  of  Alton 
Court  sipping  his  coffee  early  one  afternoon  about 
three  weeks  after  the  events  related  in  the  last  chap- 
ter. He  was  a  fine  old  gentleman,  close  on  seventy 
years  of  age,  and  with  a  leonine  head  still  thickly 
covered  with  snow-white  hair.  The  gentleman  with 
him  was  Mr.  Merrick,  his  friend  and  neighbor. 

Steve  Merrick  was  a  rough  diamond  who  had 
started  life  as  a  grocery  errand-boy.  Naturally  smart 
and  saving,  he  advanced  step  by  step  until,  on  the 
outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  he  was  awarded  a  bid  as 


THE   GAME  41 

army  contractor.  Like  most  of  those  gentry  who 
poisoned  the  patriots  to  fill  their  own  pockets,  he 
made  a  lot  of  money,  and  with  sundry  lucky  real 
estate  speculations-  soon  found  himself  a  rich  man. 
He  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Marshall  when  the 
latter  was  running  for  the  Boston  mayoralty.  In  fact, 
it  was  Merrick's  liberality  in  contributing  to  the  cam- 
paign expenses  that  had  ensured  the  success  of  the 
election.  Ever  since  that  time  the  two  men  had  been 
intimate,  and  Mrs.  Merrick,  a  vulgar,  obstreperous 
woman,  had  not  been  slow  to  profit  by  the  opportunity 
their  acquaintance  with  the  Marshalls  afforded  to 
break  into  society. 

Mrs.  Marshall,  an  aristocratic  old  lady,  had  little 
in  common  with  her  parvenu  neighbors;  but  for  the 
sake  of  her  husband,  who  was  under  obligations  to 
Steve  Merrick,  she  tolerated  them  and  allowed  Mrs. 
Merrick  to  use  her  as  an  entering  wedge.  Once  in- 
troduced, the  Merricks'  money  did  the  rest.  They 
built  a  showy  place  next  to  Alton  Court,  and  by 
giving  costly  entertainments  that  were  talked  about 
they  found  no  difficulty  in  creating  a  large  circle  of 
so-called  friends.  Those  who  ate  their  dinners 
laughed  behind  their  backs.  No  amount  of  money 
could  conceal  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Merrick  was  a  vul- 
garian, and  like  most  parvenues  she  did  not  know 
how  to  spend  discreetly  the  money  that  had  come  to 
them  so  rapidly.  She  overdressed,  overfed,  overdid 


42  THE   END   OF 

everything.  She  never  tired  of  telling  her  friends 
what  their  house  cost  and  the  fabulous  price  that  had 
been  paid  for  every  object  in  it.  She  used  a  tooth- 
pick at  table,  laughed  coarsely  and  bullied  her  ser- 
vants. It  was  a  bitter  pill  for  Mrs.  Marshall  to  be 
compelled  to  patronize  a  woman  whose  every  action 
and  word  jarred  her,  but  there  were  reasons  of  policy 
the  world  knew  nothing  about,  and  these  same  reasons 
were  compelling  when,  later  on,  her  husband  showed 
her  that  the  success  of  her  son's  future  lay  in  his 
marriage  with  Mrs.  Merrick's  daughter. 

Lucy  Merrick  was  a  tall  willowy  blonde  of  twenty- 
three.  Like  her  mother,  she  got  her  gowns  from 
Paris  and  her  manners  from  Oshkosh.  Yet  apart 
from  her  love  of  slang  and  her  flashy  style,  she  was  a 
good-natured  enough  girl,  and  being  sole  heiress  to 
a  million  of  dollars,  was  considered  a  desirable  catch 
by  every  match-making  mother  throughout  the  State. 
For  a  man  who  was  not  over-fastidious  in  choosing 
his  life  partner,  provided  she  could  look  after 
his  creature  comforts,  bear  him  children  and — bring 
him  money,  Miss  Merrick  was  perhaps  all  that  could 
be  desired,  but  if  needed  to  be  the  helpmate  and  com- 
panion of  an  intellectual  man,  she  would  fall  short 
of  filling  the  requirements.  She  was  empty-headed 
as  a  sawdust  doll  and  she  had  not  an  interest  in  life 
above  the  trivialities  of  society.  Her  idea  of  being 
agreeable  was  to  be  loquacious  and  noisy,  and  in  her 


THE  GAME  43 

senseless  spasms  of  chatter  she  listened  to  no  one, 
talking  all  the  time  herself  about  nothing  at  all. 
Her  one  thought  and  aim  was  to  have  fine  clothes, 
plenty  of  spending  money  and  what  she  called  "  a 
good  time."  She  dressed  richly  and  loudly,  and 
having  a  rather  stylish  figure  enjoyed  a  reputation 
for  good  looks  which  really  she  did  not  possess.  Her 
complexion  was  spoiled  from  late  hours  and  over- 
indulgence in  rich  foods,  and  spiteful  tongues  insinu- 
ated that  she  used  cosmetics  and  dyed  her  hair  the 
beautiful  blond  which  it  was. 

As  far  as  her  stunted  brain  permitted  her  to,  she 
realized  the  social  advantages  that  would  accrue 
to  her  from  her  marriage  with  Roy  Marshall,  but 
as  to  feeling  any  real  affection  or  even  regard 
for  him  she  was  utterly  incapable.  Her  affec- 
tions were  still  virginal.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  did 
not  care  for  Roy  nearly  as  much  as  she  did  for  Violet, 
her  queer-looking  Japanese  terrier,  which  was  her 
almost  constant  companion.  But,  on  general  prin- 
ciples, she  was  not  opposed  to  getting  married.  The 
very  novelty  of  the  thing  appealed  to  her.  She 
thought  it  would  be  real  nice  to  have  an  establish- 
ment of  her  own  and  take  her  place  in  society  as  a 
fashionable  young  matron.  She  had  consented  to 
marry  Roy,  as  her  mother  had  convinced  her  that  it 
would  be  a  clever  move  in  social  strategy.  She  would 
have  to  marry  some  one.  Why  not  Roy  Marshall? 


44  THE   END    OF 

As  far  as  social  position  went,  Roy  was  more  accept- 
able than  any  other  man  she  knew.  On  the  other 
hand,  she  was  not  quit*  so  dull  as  not  to  understand 
that  her  money  was  buying  her  a  husband  in  the  same 
way  that  it  had  purchased  for  her  parents  recognition 
by  Boston's  Four  Hundred,  and  the  knowledge  of 
this  matrimonial  "  deal "  gave  her  a  sense  of  supe- 
riority and  independence  that  showed  itself  in  her 
haughtiness  of  manner  both  towards  her  future 
parents-in-law  and  even  towards  Roy  himself. 

Mrs.  Marshall,  being  a  sensible  woman,  deplored 
the  ill-sorted  match.  Her  mother's  instinct  told  her 
that  Miss  Merrick  was  not  the  girl  to  make  her  son 
the  right  kind  of  wife,  and  she  had  done  her  best  to 
discourage  it.  But  when  she  had  raised  objections 
to  a  plan  so  dear  to  her  husband's  interests,  she  had 
provoked  such  a  scene  that  she  had  not  dared  to  in- 
terfere again.  "  Leave  this  matter  to  me,"  the  old 
gentleman  had  said,  and  accustomed  to  acquiesce 
weakly  in  her  lord's  wishes,  she  had  merely  sighed 
and  obeyed. 

Having  enjoyed  the  Marshalls'  ample  hospitality 
at  luncheon,  Steve  Merrick  sat  back  in  his  chair, 
caressing  his  paunch,  satisfied  with  himself  and  the 
world.  The  day  was  warm  and  the  ex-army  contrac- 
tor and  Mr.  Marshall,  senior,  enjoyed  taking  their 
demi-tasse  in  the  comparative  coolness  of  the  shaded 
terrace.  After  a  long  silence,  during  which  he  amused 


THE    GAME  45 

himself  puffing  thin  clouds  of  blue  smoke  from  his 
expensive  Havana,  Merrick  suddenly  turned  on  his 
host.  He  spoke  with  a  drawl  and  a  nasal  twang  like 
a  Yankee  farmer. 

"  I'll  be  derned,  Marshall,  if  I  kin  git  through  my 
head  why  yer  so  keen  on  quittin'  that  bizness  of  yourn 
in  Boston.  Yer  still  hale  and  hearty — fit  as  a  fiddle. 
Why,  man  alive,  yer're  good  fer  another  ten  years. 
That  concern  of  yourn  in  Boston  needs  the  old  pilot. 
Yer  son'll  bring  new  ideas,  new  energy,  that's  as  it 
may  be.  But  it's  experience  that  counts  every  time." 

Mr.  Marshall  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  tired  of  the  continual 
grind.  I  have  carried  the  burden  of  anxiety  and 
responsibility  for  nearly  thirty  years.  It  is  time  others 
did  their  share.  I  don't  suppose  I've  many  years  left. 
I  want  to  spend  in  peace  the  few  days  that  remain." 

Merrick  grinned. 

"  Accordin'  to  that  fool  doctor  as  has  been  adver- 
tisin'  hisself  in  the  papers,"  he  said,  "  you  and  me's 
been  dead  these  five  and  twenty  years — chloroformed 
out  of  the  way.  We're  putty  healthy-looking  corpses, 
ain't  we  ?  "  he  added  with  a  chuckle. 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Osier  was  right  in  a  way,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Marshall.  "  It  is  true — there  is  no  room  in  the  furi- 
ous maelstrom  of  our  modern  business  life  for  old 
fellows  such  as  you  and  me.  America  is  the  country 
for  young  men — fresh  energy,  fresh  brains,  fresh 


46  THE   END    OF 

ideas.  In  every  branch  of  public  life  you  find  young 
men  holding  important  positions — young  presidents  in 
the  White  House,  young  judges  on  the  bench,  young 
managers  at  the  head  of  great  corporations,  young 
leaders  in  politics.  Practically  all  we  old  codgers  are 
already  on  the  shelf;  younger  men  have  taken  our 
places  at  the  throttle.  I've  been  longer  in  harness  than 
the  average.  But  I'm  glad  I'm  through.  What  with 
trade  competition,  flurries  in  the  stock  and  produce 
markets,  business  activities  and  worries  of  all  kinds, 
the  pace  to-day  is  terrific.  It  takes  the  constitution  of 
a  horse  to  stand  the  strain.  I  confess  I'm  quite  worn 
out.  That's  why  I'm  impatient  to  relinquish  the  reins 
to  my  son." 

"That  drug  concarn  of  yourn  is  in  putty  good 
shape,  ain't  it  ?  "  inquired  Merrick,  giving  his  host  a 
keen  glance  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows.  "  It 
ain't  talked  about  so  much  as  it  used  to  be." 

"  It  was  never  more  prosperous !  "  replied  Mr.  Mar- 
shall hastily.  "  Last  year  we  nearly  doubled  our  turn- 
over, and  when  Roy  takes  hold,  with  the  new  capital 
which  his  marriage  with  your  daughter  will  enable 
him  to  put  into,  the  concern,  Marshall  &  Company 
ought  to  be  in  a  position  to  control  the  drug  market." 

"  Wai,  to  tell  yer  the  honest  truth,"  drawled  Mr. 
Merrick  grimly,  "  I'd  kinder  like  to  see  something 
doin'  appertainin'  to  thet  marriage.  I  don't  see  yer 
boy  'round  my  gal  much.  If  they're  goin'  to  get 


THE   GAME  47 

spliced  there  ought  to  be  somethin'  doin'  by  this  time. 
Your  lad's  been  home  three  weeks  now.  Ef  he  don't 
want  Lucy,  all  right!  I  guess  she  can  find  other 
young  fellers  as  do.  We  like  yer  family  an'  all  that 
sort  of  thing  an'  I'm  ready  to  stan'  by  my  bargain — 
$200,000  down  on  their  weddin'  day,  but  we  ain't 
doin'  any  coaxin'." 

"  Oh,  I  assure  you,"  replied  Marshall,  Sr.,  rather 
taken  aback,  "  Roy  is  quite  infatuated  with  Lucy. 
He's  a  peculiar  boy,  not  very  demonstrative.  I  sup- 
pose he's  bashful.  You  know  how  it  is." 

"  No,  I  can't  say  as  I  do,"  rejoined  Merrick  laconi- 
cally. "  When  I  popped  the  question  to  the  missus — 
my  wife  that  is — I  says :  '  Maria,  you're  all  right. 
That  pork  and  beans  to-day  was  A  number  one.  I 
kinder  guess  we'd  pull  together  alright,  alright. 
What  do  you  say  if  we  hitch  up?'  And  she  says, 
quite  natural  and  easy,  she  says:  'All  right,  Steve — 
now  you're  talkinY  There  was  -no  frills — plain  biz- 
ness.  Yer  boy's  dead  slow.  It's  up  to  him." 

"  Certainly — certainly,"  said  Mr.  Marshall,  embar- 
rassed how  to  explain  satisfactorily  Roy's  apparent 
indifference.  "  I'll  speak  to  him." 

"  Maybe  your  eyes  ain't  so  good  as  mine,"  said  Mer- 
rick significantly,  "  or  maybe  my  eyes  sees  things  they 
don't  oughter." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  demanded  Mr.  Marshall. 

"Wai,"  said  Merrick,  "I've  noticed  Master  Roy 


48  THE   END    OF 

dangling  after  thet  schoolmarm  more  than's  actually 
called  for  by  the  regulations.  I  ran  into  them  in  the 
park  yesterday.  They  were  chinning  away  like  a 
couple  of  magpies  and  so  taken  up  with  each  other 
that  they  didn't  see  me.  I  ain't  savin'  nothin',  only 
it  ain't  exactly  the  square  thing  to  my  Lucy — under- 
stand?" 

Mr.  Marshall  turned  pale.  Was  it  possible  that 
Roy,  always  so  indifferent  to  the  opposite  sex,  had 
been  attracted  to  his  sister's  governess?  That  unfor- 
tunate episode  on  the  lake  had,  of  course,  led  to  a 
certain  intimacy,  but  that  it  could  be  anything  more 
serious  than  a  harmless  flirtation  he  did  not  believe  for 
a  moment.  In  any  case,  Roy  had  no  right  to  trifle 
with  the  girl,  especially  when  it  might  imperil  his 
future  plans  by  arousing  the  anger  of  the  Merricks. 
Certainly  he  would  lose  no  time  in  talking  to  him  on 
the  subject. 

His  reflections  and  those  of  Mr.  Merrick  were  sud- 
denly interrupted  by  loud  shouts  of  laughter.  Both 
men  looked  down  and  saw  Grace,  tennis  racket  in 
hand,  being  pursued  by  Roy  on  the  lawn  below.  They 
had  been  playing  and  suddenly  Grace,  in  a  spirit  of 
fun,  had  run  off  with  the  ball  and  he  had  given  chase. 
The  young  girl  was  devotedly  attached  to  Roy,  openly 
preferring  his  society  and  companionship  to  that  of 
her  younger  brother  Ned,  whose  age  she  more  nearly 
approached.  When  Roy  was  home  Ned  stood  little 


THE    GAME  49 

chance,  and  fully  aware  of  this  favoritism,  he  was  now 
sulkily  sprawled  on  a  bench  under  a  tree,  reading  a 
book,  while  his  sister  romped  with  Roy. 

Grace  was  the  typical  young  American  girl — attrac- 
tive, bright,  agreeable,  charming,  less  awkward  be- 
cause less  restrained  than  European  girls  of  the  same 
age  and  class,  and  with  the  irresistible  fascination  and 
freshness  of  youth  unspoiled  by  freedom  of  speech 
and  action.  She  was  aristocratic  in  appearance,  lithe 
and  graceful  in  bearing,  easy  and  frank  in  manners 
and  conversation.  Her  figure  was  slight  and  as  yet 
unformed,  but  her  regular  features,  fine  eyes  and 
luxuriant  hair,  which  she  wore  straight  down  her 
back  tied  with  a  ribbon,  gave  promise  of  uncommon 
beauty.  Not  yet  sixteen,  she  had  reached  that  critical 
age  in  a  girl's  life  when,  like  the  rosebud  which  slowly 
opens  disclosing  its  loveliest  leaves,  the  child  is 
merged  into  the  woman.  Her  natural  amiability  and 
sweetness  of  disposition  had  earned  for  her  the  sobri- 
quet of  "  Sunbeam  "  from  her  family  and  friends. 

She  was  as  fleet  on  her  feet  as  a  forest  nymph  and 
she  ran  Roy  a  hard  race  in  and  out  among  the  trees 
before  he  finally  caught  her  and  gently  but  firmly 
compelled  her  to  surrender  the  ball.  She  was  laugh- 
ing so  heartily  that  she  had  not  the  strength  to  resist 
further. 

"  It's  very  mean  of  you  to  take  advantage  of  a  poor 
weak  girl !  "  she  pouted.  "  I'll  tell  Miss  Vincent!  " 


50  THE   END    OF 

She  broke  from  his  grasp  and  ran  to  meet  her  gov- 
erness who  was  approaching,  accompanied  by  Miss 
Merrick.  Some  di'stance  away  seated  under  a  clump 
of  fine  oaks,  were  Mrs.  Marshall  and  Mrs.  Merrick. 

Lucy  Merrick,  in  spite  of  the  heat,  was  costumed 
as  elaborately  as  though  she  were  going  to  some  im- 
portant social  function.  But  she  was  not.  She  always 
got  herself  up  in  this  extravagant  fashion,  no  matter 
what  the  occasion.  Dress  to  her  was  the  one  thing  in 
life  that  was  really  worth  while.  It  was  the  Alpha 
and  Omega  of  all  things.  She  had  on  a  gown  of 
white  embroidered  chiffon  over  rose  colored  silk  made 
in  the  latest  style  and  with  rose  colored  shoes 
and  stockings  to  match,  while  her  hair  was  built  up 
so  fantastically  with  puffs  and  combs  that  she  looked 
as  if  a  head  just  taken  from  a  coiffeur's  window  had 
been  fastened  on  her  shoulders.  A  diamond  dog  col- 
lar necklace  encircled  her  throat,  and  enormous  pearls 
did  service  as  ear  rings,  while  the  fingers  of  each  hand 
literally  blazed  with  gems.  In  vulgar  parlance,  Miss 
Lucy  "  had  'em  all  on." 

She  had  a  box  of  candy  in  her  hand  and  was  amus- 
ing herself  throwing  chocolate  creams  to  Violet,  her 
Japanese  terrier,  who  caught  them  in  her  mouth. 
Wh^n  the  little  beast,  aided  by  her  mistress,  had  swal- 
lowed about  half  the  box,  Miss  Lucy  decided  her  pet 
had  had  enough,  so  she  picked  her  up  regardless  of 
her  dress,  and  putting  her  close  to  her  face,  allowed 


THE   GAME  51 

her  to  run  her  cold  nose  and  warm  tongue  all  over  it. 

"  Isn't  she  a  precious  ?  "  she  cried,  appealing  to  Roy 
and  caressing  her  pet,  which,  with  its  body  entirely 
bald,  deep  purple  in  color,  small  pointed  ears  and 
snout,  and  a  few  straggling  hairs  bristling  on  the  top 
of  its  head,  had  the  appearance  of  an  overgrown  rat. 
It  was  always  shivering,  as  if  afflicted  with  the  ague, 
and  whining  to  be  carried. 

She  lavished  upon  this  four-footed  animal  the 
affection  she  was  incapable  of  bestowing  upon  her 
own  kind,  looking  after  her  canine  wants,  nursing  her 
canine  distempers  with  the  solicitude  of  a  mother.  If 
anything  ailed  her,  an  overloaded  stomach  or  an  out- 
raged digestion,  Lucy  was  in  the  keenest  distress. 
The  only  time  she  was  known  to  shed  a  tear  was  when 
one  day  a  wagon  wheel  went  over  Violet's  tail  and  she 
ran  howling  to  the  house.  The  dog  had  a  wardrobe 
which  many  a  human  might  envy.  She  had  coats 
and  trousers  for  summer  and  winter  wear  in  all  colors 
and  cuts,  little  pocket  handkerchiefs  marked  with  her 
initial,  with  which  Lucy  carefully  wiped  the  sleepers 
out  of  her  eyes,  and  shoes  of  all  shapes  and  shades, 
tan  for  the  daytime,  patent  leather  for  evening  wear. 
She  slept  in  her  young  mistress's  room  in  a  miniature 
brass  bedstead  which  had  lace  pillows  and  real  linen 
sheets.  She  was  stuffed  from  morning  till  night  with 
candy  and  consequently  was  always  sick.  Like  a 
spoiled  and  overindulged  child,  the  little  beast  showed 


52  THE   END    OF 

affection  for  nobody,  snarled  at  everyone  and  with 
the  servants  was  almost  as  unpopular  as  Miss  Lucy 
herself.  One  maid  gave  immediate  notice  because 
Lucy  had  requested  her  to  rub  Violet's  feet  warm 
after  she  had  been  carelessly  running  about  in  the 
snow  without  her  galoches. 

Roy  stood  looking  from  the  dog  to  her  mistress, 
taking  mental  stock  of  his  bride  that  was  to  be.  The 
dog  certainly  he  would  not  stand  for.  An  expression 
suggestive  of  disgust  and  impatience  hovered  at  the 
corners  of  his  clean  shaven  mouth.  From  Lucy  his 
glance  went  to  Miss  Vincent,  who  had  thrown  her 
arm  around  Grace  in  an  affectionate  caress. 

The  governess  looked  an  entirely  different  person 
to-day  to  the  dripping  half-drowned  young  woman 
whom  he  had  dragged  out  of  Wexford  Lake.  She 
had  on  a  simply  made  gown  of  gray  material,  the  gen- 
eral plainness  relieved  at  the  neck  and  wrists  by  white 
lace.  Her  hair,  naturally  silky  and  of  remarkable 
length,  was  caught  up  loosely.  She  had  been  read- 
ing and  carried  a  book  in  her  disengaged  hand. 

"  How  different !  "  Roy  murmured  to  himself,  not 
heeding  Lucy's  question.  Stamping  her  foot  im- 
patiently, she  repeated  it. 

"  Roy,  I  do  wish  you  wouldn't  dream  so.  I  declare 
one  can't  get  a  civil  answer  out  of  you  since  you've 
come  home  this  time.  Don't  you  think  my  dog  a  per- 
fect little  beauty?" 


THE    GAME  53 

"  I  think  she's  a  horrid  little  beast,"  said  Roy  im- 
patiently, "  and  I  don't  see  how  anybody  with  the 
slightest  self-respect  can  let  a  dog  kiss  her  face  like 
that.  It  isn't  exactly  encouraging  to  those  who 
might  want  to  follow  her  example,"  he  added  ironi- 
cally. 

But  the  irony  was  completely  lost  on  Lucy,  who 
merely  saw  in  his  speech  a  deliberate,  uncalled  for 
insult  to  her  canine  companion. 

"  Roy,"  she  said  indignantly,  "  I  think  you  are  very 
unkind.  I  won't  speak  to  you  for  the  rest  of  the  after- 
noon." Turning  to  Grace  and  Miss  Vincent  she 
cried :  "  Come,  girls,  we'll  have  a  game  of  tennis.  Go 
and  ask  Ned  to  play." 

"  Won't  you  come,  Roy  ?  "  asked  Grace. 

"  No,  dear,  I'll  go  up  on  the  terrace  and  smoke  a 
cigarette  with  Mr.  Merrick  and  father.  Besides,"  he 
added  aside,  indicating  Lucy  by  a  jerk  of  his  head, 
"  her  ladyship  is  offended." 

Grace  gave  a  merry  peal  of  laughter  and  ran  off 
followed  by  Lucy  and  Miss  Vincent.  Ned,  disturbed 
from  his  slumbers,  went  after  them,  grumbling. 

Roy,  during  his  passage  at  arms  with  Lucy,  had 
tried  to  catch  Miss  Vincent's  eye,  but  the  governess 
studiously  avoided  his  gaze,  and  as  far  as  might  be 
inferred  from  appearances,  was  even  unconscious  of 
his  presence.  Once  or  twice,  Lucy  had  given  both 
of  them  a  sharp  look,  but  there  was  absolutely  nothing 


54  THE   END    OF 

in  the  demeanor  of  the  governess  to  arouse  her  sus- 
picions, even  if  she  had  any. 

Roy  went  up  the  steps  giving  access  to  the  terrace 
and  drew  a  chair  up  to  the  table  at  which  his  father 
and  prospective  father-in-law  were  sitting. 

"  Having  your  demi-tasse  out  here,  eh  ?  "  he  said, 
"  good  idea.  Do  you  mind  if  I  smoke  a  cigarette  ?  " 
he  asked,  addressing  his  father. 

"  Certainly  not,  my  boy.  Smoke  away — why 
should  I  care  if  you  like  to  poison  yourself  with 
nicotine  ?  " 

Marshall  Sr.  spoke  in  a  jocular  tone,  but  really  in 
earnest.  The  old  gentleman  was  not  a  smoker  him- 
self and  had  little  patience  with  those  who  used  the 
weed.  Yet  it  was  not  so  much  his  son's  solitary  cig- 
arette that  he  had  in  mind  as  Merrick's  unlimited 
cigars.  The  ex-army  contractor  was  an  inveterate 
smoker. 

"  Oh  come,  pater,"  laughed  Roy  as  he  lit  a  cigarette, 
"  it  isn't  so  bad  as  all  that.  Think  of  the  great  men 
who  smoked  incessantly — Bismarck,  Grant,  Carlyle, 
Balzac,  Tennyson,  Hugo.  They  lived  long  and  did 
things.  Tobacco  soothes  the  nerves  and  helps  one 
to  think." 

"  Pshaw !  "  retorted  his  father ;  "  my  nerves  are 
steady  as  a  rock  and  I  never  touched  tobacco  since  I 
was  a  boy  when  I  foolishly  essayed  a  big  cigar.  It 
made  me  deathly  sick  but  I  was  cured  for  life.  Th* 


THE    GAME  55 

man  whose  brain  won't  work  without  being  artificially 
stimulated  is  deficient  in  gray  matter.  The  trouble 
with  the  smoker  is  that  he  is  such  a  selfish  brute.  He 
is  the  original  human  hog.  Is  he  justified  in  puffing 
what  is  usually  a  bad  cigar  into  the  faces  of  persons 
to  whom  tobacco  smoke  is  objectionable?  The  man 
who  will  smoke  on  a  public  street  car,  knowing  that 
his  cigar  is  annoying  the  man  or  woman  behind  him, 
is  a  public  nuisance." 

"  Fiddlesticks !  "  grunted  Merrick,  who  had  listened 
to  the  conversation  without  interfering,  "  a  quiet 
smoke  is  about  the  only  cheap  and  real  pleasure  a 
man  has  left  in  life.  Take  away  from  the  workin' 
man  his  plug  of  'baccy  and  from  the  millionaire  his 
perfecto  and  the  world  would  come  to  a  standstill. 
Life  wouldn't  be  worth  livin'  if  we  had  to  stop  and 
consider  the  likes  and  dislikes  of  every  crank.  It's 
give  and  take  in  this  world — mostly  take.  That  re- 
minds me,"  he  went  on,  "  of  an  old  lady  I  knew  in 
Virginny.  She  invited  a  sea  capt'n  to  dinner.  She 
had  a  horror  of  tobacco  in  any  form  and  he  was  spe- 
cially fond  of  a  villainous  pipe.  When  the  coffee  was 
served  he  produced  it.  She  glared  at  him  but  he 
took  no  notice  and  went  on  tranquilly  filling  the  pipe. 
Then,  suddenly,  as  if  bethinkin'  himself  of  his  man- 
ners, he  asked:  'Do  you  object  to  smoking  ma'am?' 
'  Yes,'  answered  the  old  lady  emphatically,  '  I  do 
most  decidedly!'  'Queer,  ain't  it?'  he  replied 


56  THE    END    OF 

unruffled,  '  some  folks  do,'  and  he  struck  a  match  and 
lit  his  pipe.' " 

"  He  was  a  genuine  hog-,"  laughed  Roy. 

Mr.  Merrick  rose  from  his  seat  with  a  noisy  yawn. 

"  I  guess  I'd  better  stretch  my  legs,"  he  said, 
"  they're  kinder  stiff  from  sittin'  so  long.  I'll  walk 
a  bit,  then  I  reckon  I'll  go  into  the  house  and  take  a 
snooze." 

"  Capital  idea !  "  exclaimed  his  host,  glad  to  get  rid 
of  him,  "  I'll  join  you  presently.  I'll  just  sit  here  a 
little  longer." 

The  contractor  went  off  leaving  father  and  son 
together. 

Marshall  Sr.  was  not  sorry  of  this  opportunity  to 
have  '3.  serious  talk  with  Roy  on  the  subject  of  Lucy. 
Pointing  to  Merrick's  retreating  figure  he  said  sig- 
nificantly : 

"  That  man's  friendship  means  a  great  deal  to  you, 
Roy.  Be  careful  you  do  nothing  to  jeopardize  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  refer  to  his  daughter,"  replied  Mr.  Marshall, 
lowering  his  voice  to  a  dramatic  undertone.  "You 
have  been  home  three  weeks  but  as  far  as  I  know  this 
marriage  on  which  we  are  building  all  our  hopes  is 
as  far  off  as  ever.  Merrick  says  you  are  neglecting 
Lucy.  He  intimates  that  if  you  don't  want  to  marry 
her  she  won't  have  to  look  long  elsewhere.  Do  you 
realize,"  he  added  slowly  and  fixing  his  son  with  r 


THE    GAME  57 

keen  glance,  "  what  a  disaster  it  would  mean  for  all 
of  us  if  you  did  not  marry  Lucy  Merrick  ?  " 

A  cloud  passed  over  the  young  man's  face.  He 
moved  uneasily  on  his  seat  and  coughed  nervously. 
His  eyes  wandered  from  his  father's  face  to  the  tennis 
players  on  the  lawn.  Grace  and  Lucy  Merrick  were 
matched  against  his  brother  Ned  and  Miss  Vincent, 
and  the  moving  figures  of  the  girls  gave  the  anima- 
tion of  life  to  the  vivid  green  background  of  the  park. 

Receiving  no  answer  to  his  question,  Mr.  Marshall 
continued : 

"  In  a  few  more  weeks  the  summer  will  be  over  and 
you  will  enter  Marshall  &  Company  as  junior  partner. 
It  will  take  you  a  year  to  get  the  run  of  things,  but  at 
the  end  of  that  time  you  ought  to  be  competent  to 
succeed  me  as  head  of  the  firm.  That  is  your  wish, 
your  ambition,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  is ;  I  can't  wait  for  the  day  when 
I'll  start  in,"  replied  Roy,  bending  eagerly  forward, 
his  face  flushed. 

"  I'm  glad  to  know  it,"  said  his  father,  noting  with 
satisfaction  his  son's  enthusiasm.  "  With  brains,  en- 
ergy and  new  capital  you  ought  to  be  able  to  restore 
to  the  business  the  prestige  it  has  lost  in  the  com- 
mercial world." 

"  I  will,  sir,  I  will,"  cried  Roy  enthusiastically.  "  I'll 
never  rest  until  the  firm  is  twice  as  big  as  it  is  to-day." 

"  The  first  thing  necessary  for  success  is  new  cap- 


58  THE  END   OF 

ital,"  wait  on  his  father.  "  I  have  already  acquainted 
you  with  our  financial  condition.  At  the  present  mo- 
ment the  situation  is  extremely  critical.  Unless  new 
capital  is  put  into  the  business,  we  might  as  well  close 
down.  For  a  quarter  of  a  century  Marshall  &  Com- 
pany stood  at  the  head  of  the  drug  trade.  It  never 
had  a  serious  rival.  But  of  late  years  business  con- 
ditions have  changed.  Younger  men  disposing  of  un- 
limited capital  have  inaugurated  a  warfare  of  ruinous 
competition.  Old,  conservative  methods  could  not 
prevail  against  a  new  and  more  sensational  way  of 
doing  business.  The  radical  changes  involved  adver- 
tising on  a  gigantic  scale,  and  for  lack  of  working 
capital  we  have  steadily  lost  ground.  Your 
wife " 

The  old  gentleman  paused  and  looked  at  his  son, 
whose  eyes  were  still  gazing  in  the  direction  of  the 
tennis  players.  Roy  winced  but  Mr.  Marshall  did  not 
notice  it. 

"  Your  wife,"  continued  his  father,  "  will  l)lring 
you  $200,000  on  your  wedding  day.  This  money  you 
can  at  once  put  into  the  business.  With  that  and  what 
you  will  get  at  her  father's  death,  you  will  one  day 
be  a  very  rich  man.  Use  this  wealth,  my  boy,  to  do 
big  things  in  the  world — make  Marshall  &  Company 
the  biggest  commercial  fact  in  the  country.  I  need 
hardly  say,"  he  added,  "  that  you  have  pleased  me  by 
entering  so  readily  into  my  wishes  for  your  future, 


THE   GAME  59 

particularly  in  regard  to  your  marriage.  Young  men 
are  often  obstinate  in  these  matters.  They  are  apt  to 
think  they  know  better  than  their  parents.  You  have 
been  sensible.  You  will  not  regret  it." 

The  old  gentleman  ceased  talking  and  looked  at  his 
son  as  if  expecting  some  response.  None  came.  His 
father's  praise  did  not  affect  Roy  in  the  way  it  might 
have  been  expected  to  do.  He  was  surprised  himself 
at  his  own  indifference.  Three  weeks  ago  every  word 
his  father  had  uttered  would  have  given  him  the 
keenest  pleasure.  He  had  asked  for  nothing  better, 
he  had  dreamed  of  no  other  future  than  that  his  father 
had  planned  for  him.  A  prosperous  business  for  his 
inheritance,  an  heiress  for  his  wife — what  more  could 
any  man  aspire  to?  But  what  may  not  happen  in 
three  weeks  ?  Men  may  be  born  and  die  again,  dynas- 
ties may  rise  and  be  overthrown.  Like  a  blind  man 
who  suddenly  recovers  his  vision  after  groping  for 
years  amid  darkness,  Roy  now  looked  out  upon  a 
different  world.  A  new  interest  had  come  into  his 
life! 


60  THE   END    OP 


CHAPTER   III 

THERE  was  tremendous  excitement  at  Alton 
Court  that  afternoon  of  the  mishap  on  the 
lake  when  the  automobile  dashed  up  at  full 
speed  with  the  two  half-drowned  young  women 
in  it.  Mrs.  Marshall  was  on  the  terrace  eagerly 
watching  for  her  son's  arrival,  and  with  her  were 
Mrs.  Merrick  and  Lucy,  both  of  whom  were  also 
eager  to  greet  the  young  man,  but  from  motives  less 
unselfish.  This  homecoming  of  the  elder  son  was  of 
considerable  importance  to  the  Merrick  social  inter- 
ests, for  it  meant  a  speedy  announcement  of  Lucy's 
engagement  with  consequent  increase  in  their  local 
prestige.  Mrs.  Merrick  did  not  attempt  to  conceal 
her  gratification  at  the  coming  marriage,  which  capped 
the  height  of  her  social  ambitions,  and  was,  in  fact, 
the  fruit  of  her  own  skilful  manoeuvring.  As  the 
mother-in-law  of  Roy  Marshall,  the  future  owner  of 
Alton  Court,  she  would  be  a  personage  of  importance 
whom  none  could  afford  to  snub.  As  to  Lucy,  she 
was  languidly  indifferent  to  the  arrival  of  her  future 
lord.  She  had  paid  him  the  compliment,  however, 
of  donning  a  sumptuous  new  dress,  the  richness  of 
which  was,  as  usual,  quite  out  of  proportion  with 


THE    GAME  61 

the  importance  of  the  occasion,  and  Violet  was  deco- 
rated with  a  ribbon  bow  larger  than  herself  of  the 
same  color  as  her  mistress'  robe. 

So  the  three  women  waited  with  emotions  entirely 
different — the  mother  with  the  unselfish  joy  which 
since  humanity  first  appeared  has  filled  the  maternal 
breast,  the  Merricks  with  the  critical  interest  they 
might  show  in  the  acquisition  of  a  new  horse.  At  last 
the  automobile  appeared  in  the  distance,  a  mere  black 
spot  on  the  long  stretch  of  white  road,  and  they 
hastened  down  the  road  to  meet  it.  But  when  a  few 
minutes  later  the  machine  drew  up  and  it  was  seen 
what  a  condition  its  occupants  were  in,  there  was 
general  commotion.  Everybody  talked  at  once  while 
Roy  endeavored  to  give  a  coherent  account  of  the 
accident.  Mrs.  Marshall,  indifferent  to  the  fact  that 
she  was  ruining  her  point  lace  waist,  hysterically 
clasped  her  soaked  daughter  to  her  bosom,  while  Roy 
laughed  and  joked  with  Lucy,  who  teased  him  about 
the  rescue. 

"  Quite  a  romance ! "  she  said  sarcastically  with  a 
toss  of  her  head. 

Mrs.  Merrick  eyed  severely  the  shivering  Miss  Vin- 
cent and  started  to  lecture  the  governess  on  the  un- 
pardonable rashness  of  two  unprotected  females  ven- 
turing on  the  water  in  a  cockleshell  boat. 

Miss  Vincent  made  no  reply,  but  covering  herself 
as  well  as  she  could  with  a  rug  fled  to  the  house  after 


62  THE   END   OF 

Grace  and  Mrs.  Marshall.  Roy,  who  had  overheard, 
protested,  contradicting  Mrs.  Merrick  flatly,  even 
rudely : 

"  The  accident  could  have  happened  to  anyone,"  he 
said  warmly.  "  In  any  case  it  was  not  Miss  Vincent's 
fault  but  Grace's.  She  tipped  the  boat  over  while 
changing  places.  Miss  Vincent,"  he  added,  "  has  dis- 
played a  coolness  and  bravery  that  was  quite  remark- 
able." 

He  was  so  positive  about  it,  so  warm  in  his  praise 
that  Lucy  glanced  at  her  mother  and  elevated  her 
eyebrows  as  if  in  pained  surprise.  Keen  as  all  match- 
making mothers  are  to  scent  peril  ahead,  Mrs.  Mer- 
rick at  once  saw  the  necessity  of  plainly  marking  for 
Roy's  benefit  Miss  Vincent's  subordinate  position  in 
the  Marshall  household,  so  she  said  pointedly: 

"  It  was  certainly  only  right  to  swim  back  for  the 
governess  " — she  lingered  over  the  title — "  as  if  you 
had  not  trouble  enough  with  your  sister  on  your 
hands.  Of  course,"  she  added  as  if  it  were  something 
she  regretted,  "  it  is  a  duty  to  save  a  human  life,  even 
if  it  be  only  that  of  a  subordinate." 

Happily  there  were  no  bad  results.  Neither  Grace 
nor  Miss  Vincent  was  any  the  worse  for  their  duck- 
ing and  in  a  few  days  the  incident  was  forgotten. 
Grace  resumed  her  studies  and  walks  with  Miss  Vin- 
cent, while  Roy  spent  his  time  playing  golf  or  tennis 
with  his  brother  Ned  or  discussing  future  business 


THE    GAME  63 

plans  with  his  father.  Sometimes,  when  he  could 
not  very  well  get  out  of  it,  he  took  Lucy  for  a  spin 
in  the  automobile,  Larry  going  along  as  assistant 
chauffeur,  but  she  fatigued  him  so  with  her  senseless 
chatter  and  artificial  manner  that  for  the  first  time 
he  fully  realized  that  she  bored  him.  Yet  this  woman 
was  to  be  his  life-long  companion.  The  idea  was 
obnoxious,  unbearable.  The  proposed  marriage  was 
preposterous.  The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the  more 
moody  and  silent  he  grew,  while  Lucy  chatted  on 
entirely  oblivious  to  the  fact  that  he  was  not  paying 
the  slightest  attention. 

A  week  had  passed  since  the  adventure  on  the  lake 
and  he  had  not  addressed  as  much  as  a  word  to  Miss 
Vincent.  He  came  across  her  each  day  in  the  com- 
pany of  his  sister,  but  a  distant  bow  was  the  extent 
of  their  mutual  recognition.  He  saw  she  was  a  lady 
in  every  sense  of  that  much  abused  term,  and  she 
was  not  as  homely  as  he  had  thought  at  first.  But 
it  was  indifferent  to  him  what  she  was.  He  had  not 
the  slightest  desire  to  improve  the  acquaintance.  He 
had  no  time  for  women.  Miss  Merrick  and  Violet 
were  about  as  much  as  he  could  attend  to  in  the 
feminine  way.  When  he  was  not  automobiling  with 
Ned  or  Lucy,  or  with  his  mother  on  the  terrace,  he 
was  usually  to  be  found  indulging  his  favorite  hobby 
— making  new  mechanical  models  in  his  tool  shop. 

But  one  afternoon  he  happened  to  come  across  the 


64  THE    END   OF 

governess  in  the  park.  She  was  sitting  on  a  bench 
under  the  shade  of  a  tree  reading.  He  raised  his 
cap  and  was  about  to  pass  when  she  stopped  him: 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Marshall,"  she  said,  with  a  flush  of  em- 
barrassment, "  I  have  had  no  opportunity  to  thank 
you  for  what  you  did  the  other  day  at  the  lake. 
Pardon  my  stopping  you,  but  it  has  been  on  my  con- 
science." 

He  smiled,  showing  all  his  white  teeth. 

"  Nonsense,"  he  replied,  "  that  was  nothing.  It  was 
mere  child's  play.  Really,  I  enjoyed  it.  I  wish  I  had 
it  to  do  over  again.  No,  I  don't  mean  that  ex- 
actly  " 

He  laughed  awkwardly  and  she  laughed  a  little 
nervous  laugh,  as  if  she  appreciated  the  fact  that  she 
was  only  the  governess  and  he  her  employer's  son. 

He  noticed  the  flush  and  interpreting  it  wrongly, 
took  her  for  a  coquette.  But  what  surprised  him  and 
kept  him  standing  there  staring  at  her  was  her  singu- 
larly attractive  appearance.  In  the  water  she  had 
seemed  positively  ugly,  while  really,  if  not  exactly 
beautiful,  she  was  extremely  good-looking.  Where 
had  his  eyes  been?  Why  had  he  not  noticed  her 
before  ? 

Above  all,  he  was  attracted  by  her  manner  and 
dress.  In  her  simple  light  gray  gown  and  white 
collar  and  cuffs,  set  off  by  a  black  sailor  knot,  loosely 
tied,  she  looked  the  picture  of  refined  womanhood. 


THE    GAME  65 

She  was,  he  judged,  about  three  and  twenty.  Her 
figure  was  slender  but  well  rounded,  every  line  sug- 
gesting plenty  of  exercise  and  open  air.  Healthy  and 
wholesome,  sound  in  mind  and  body,  she  was  one  of 
those  young  women  who  seem  destined  by  Nature  to 
be  mothers  of  the  race.  Her  features  were  irregular 
but  prepossessing,  and  her  high,  broad  brow,  crowned 
by  auburn  hair,  indicated  considerable  mentality.  It 
was  the  head  of  a  woman  who,  in  critical  moments, 
was  likely  to  be  swayed  by  her  intellect  rather  than 
by  her  temperament. 

But  her  eyes  were  the  most  attractive  and  expres- 
sive part  of  her  physiognomy.  What  more  wonderful, 
more  beautiful,  more  disturbing  than  a  woman's  eyes 
— the  dark,  flashing,  languorous  eyes  of  the  imperious 
brunette,  conscious  of  their  power  and  willing  to  exert 
it;  the  soft  dreamy  eyes  of  the  stately  blonde, 
rivalling  in  their  pellucid  depths  the  matchless  blue 
of  the  vaultless  heavens;  the  cold,  thoughtful  gray 
eyes  of  intellect,  grave,  uncompromising;  the  kind, 
gentle,  wistful  eyes,  the  most  dangerous  of  them  all? 
Eunice's  eyes  were  a  combination  of  the  two  last — 
intellectual  and  gently  wistful.  They  were  gray  in 
color  and  shaded  with  long,  dark  lashes  and  some- 
what mournful  in  expression,  yet  alert  and  intelligent. 
She  had  a  firm  and  rather  sensitive  mouth,  drooping 
at  the  corners.  Young  as  she  was,  her  mouth  had 
about  it  certain  lines  which  suggested  that  she  had 


66  THE   END    OF 

already  tasted  the  bitter  fruit  of  world-sorrow.  It 
was  the  mouth  of  one  who  had  suffered. 

Her  voice  was  well-poised  and  musical  in  quality 
and  her  manner  had  the  easy  grace  that  denotes  good 
breeding. 

Roy  had  not  been  in  the  habit  of  paying  much  at- 
tention to  the  opposite  sex,  but  this  girl's  personality 
appealed  to  him  with  irresistible  force.  The  contrast 
between  his  sister's  governess  and  the  woman  he  was 
going  to  marry  was  so  marked  that  he  could  not  re- 
frain from  making  mental  comparisons  not  entirely 
to  the  advantage  of  Miss  Merrick.  He  stared  at  her 
until,  conscious  of  his  fixed  scrutiny,  a  look  of  annoy- 
ance crossed  her  face.  But  it  was  only  for  an  instant. 
The  cloud  passed  and  left  her  visage  as  calm  and  un- 
concerned as  if  she  were  unconscious  of  his  presence. 

Roy  was  shuffling  uneasily  about,  trying  to  invent 
some  excuse  for  further  conversation.  Finally  he 
said: 

"Where  is  Grace?" 

"  She's  gone  up  to  the  house  to  get  a  book." 

There  was  another  awkward  pause.  Then  he  said 
boldly: 

"  May  I  sit  here  till  she  comes?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish." 

The  smile  disappeared  from  her  face  and  there  was 
a  frigid  note  about  her  welcome  that  he  did  not  ex- 
actly relish,  but  he  sat  down  and  glanced  furtively 


THE   GAME  67 

at  her,  at  a  loss  what  to  say.  Miss  Vincent  herself 
was  ill  at  ease.  She  was  sorry  now  that  she  had 
spoken  to  him.  Miss  Merrick  or  some  one  at  the 
house  might  see  him  there  and  put  a  wrong  construc- 
tion upon  it.  She  felt  the  false  position  she  was  in. 

"  Do  you  like  it  here  ?  "  he  ventured  after  a  pause. 
He  felt  rather  intimidated.  There  was  something  in 
her  manner,  an  indefinable  charm  mixed  with  hauteur, 
which  attracted  and  yet  kept  him  at  a  distance. 

"Yes,  it  is  very  nice,  everyone  is  most  kind,"  she 
answered. 

Instinctively  a  gentleman,  Roy  quickly  realized  that 
this  girl's  dependent  position  at  Alton  Court  entitled 
her  to  even  more  respect  and  consideration  than  he 
would  be  expected  to  show  a  social  equal.  He  at 
once  averted  his  gaze  and  began  to  draw  idle  patterns 
on  the  sandy  path  at  his  feet.  He  wondered  why  he 
had  been  so  blind.  He  had  been  a  whole  week  under 
the  same  roof  with  her  and  yet  he  had  not  remarked 
before  that  she  was  one  of  the  most  attractive  girls 
he  had  ever  met.  He  knew  she  was  a  college  girl  and 
he  felt  fraternal  sympathy  for  her.  So  many  girls, 
he  mused,  were  given  the  higher  education  without 
the  means  to  live  up  to  the  ideals  and  tastes  fostered 
by  culture.  It  was  like  the  punishment  of  Tantalus, 
to  be  taught  what  is  most  beautiful  a»d  most  desir- 
able in  life  only  to  be  deprived  of  the  means  to  enjoy 
them.  A  man  without  money  can  do  many  things 


68  THE   END   OF 

with  a  university  degree ;  it  is  useful  to  him  in  almost 
every  walk  of  life,  but  what  can  a  woman  do  but  teach 
if  suddenly  thrown  upon  her  own  resources,  and  what 
dreadful  drudgery  teaching  is,  subject  to  every  insult 
and  humiliation.  His  sister  Grace  was  a  dear  little 
girl,  a  favorite  with  everyone,  but  he  himself  would 
never  have  the  patience  to  teach  her. 

"  You  are  a  Smith  girl  ?  "  he  said  suddenly  with  the 
idea  of  getting  better  acquainted. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  studied  at  Smith  College." 

"  Did  you  graduate  ?  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  replied: 

"  No — we  had  trouble  at  home.  I  had  to  leave 
college." 

"  Were  you  sorry?  " 

She  gave  a  little  gasp  as  she  replied  with  her  whole 
heart: 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  was  the  happiest  time  in  my  life." 

"  Your  life  is  not  very  old  yet,"  he  laughed. 

She  made  no  rejoinder,  evidently  wishing  to  dis- 
courage further  personalities,  and  he  continued: 

"  Yes,  it  is  jolly,  isn't  it?  But  I'm  glad  I'm  through 
with  it.  I  was  impatient  to  begin  a  career." 

The  topic  was  mutually  interesting  and  they  got 
along  famously.  They  forgot  all  about  Grace  and 
Miss  Merrick  as  they  chatted  on,  discussing  the  merits 
of  their  respective  alma  maters.  They  compared 
notes  as  to  classroom  routine,  he  told  her  stories  of 


THE    GAME  69 

the  clever  men  who  carried  off  honors  during  the 
last  term,  and  about  the  great  ball  games  fought  on 
the  field.  She,  in  turn,  described  the  cosey  house 
parties  given  by  the  girl  undergraduates,  the  wonder- 
ful performances  of  Shakespeare  presented  by  the 
dramatic  club,  and  the  hundred  and  one  other  little 
interesting  incidents  of  girl  university  life. 

"Teaching  is  dreadful  drudgery,"  he  said;  "how 
can  you  stand  it  ?  " 

"  We  should  like  what  we  have  to  do,"  she  an- 
swered gravely.  Then  she  added,  "  One  cannot  al- 
ways choose." 

There  was  a  gentle  rebuke  in  her  tone  and  he  felt 
like  a  school-boy  who  had  been  reprimanded  for  an 
impertinence.  He  was  angry  at  her  for  presuming  to 
preach  at  him.  He  half  rose  to  go,  but  he  caught 
another  glimpse  of  her  large  gray  eyes,  serious  and 
melancholy  as  if  they  mirrored  her  soul,  and  he  stayed. 

She  accidentally  dropped  the  book  she  had  been 
reading.  As  he  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  he  glanced  at 
the  title.  It  was  Haeckel's  "  Riddle  of  the  Universe." 

"  You  are  fond  of  heavy  reading,"  he  laughed. 

"  I  don't  call  that  heavy,"  she  answered.  "  It  is  so 
fascinating,  so  wonderful.  Can  you  ever  tire  of 
speculating  on  man's  origin  and  his  ultimate  destiny? 
Doesn't  the  subject  interest  you?" 

Her  eyes  met  his  frankly  and  serenely.  She  had 
got  over  her  first  moments  of  embarrassment  and  she 


70  THE   END    OF 

conversed  as  easily  and  freely  with  him  as  if  they 
were  old  friends. 

"  I'm  afraid  it  doesn't,"  replied  Roy.  "  The  fact  is 
I  never  gave  it  much  thought." 

"  What  does  interest  you  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Oh,"  he  replied  carelessly,  "  the  more  practical 
things  of  every-day  life — the  news  of  the  world,  poli- 
tics, the  latest  big  operations  in  commercial  and  finan- 
cial circles,  Arctic  explorations,  discoveries  in  science, 
submarine  boats.  That's  my  hobby,  you  know,"  he 
added,  smiling,  "  mechanical  inventions." 

"  Yet  you  are  going  to  be  a  chemist." 

"  One  cannot  always  choose,"  he  said,  repeating  her 
own  words. 

She  laughed  and  he  laughed,  too.  The  ice  was 
broken  and  thereafter  they  chatted  with  a  sense  of 
greater  intimacy.  Yet  he  continued  to  treat  her  with 
the  courtesy  due  a  queen.  There  was  something  in 
her  manner  that  exacted  it. 

"  You  are  a  Boston  girl  ?  "  he  said  interrogatively. 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  I  was  born  in  New  York. 
We  lived  there  until  disaster  came.  Then  we  came 
to  Massachusetts." 

She  said  nothing  more  and  he  did  not  press  for 
further  particulars.  He  had  heard  the  story  from  his 
mother.  It  was  one  of  those  sordid,  commonplace 
dramas  in  real  life  which  are  the  stock  in  trade  of 
the  yellow  newspapers.  Her  father,  Sylvester  Vin- 


THE    GAME  71 

cent,  was  a  stock-broker  in  Wall  Street — energetic, 
prosperous  and  devoted  to  his  wife  and  only  daugh- 
ter. They  had  an  expensive  apartment  on  Central 
Park  West  and  Eunice  was  sent  to  Smith  College. 
Then  the  fever  of  Wall  Street,  which  has  sent  so 
many  victims  to  early  graves,  seized  Mr.  Vincent. 
Enough  did  not  suffice.  He  dreamed  of  great  wealth. 
He  began  to  speculate  deeper  than  his  resources  war- 
ranted. The  market  went  against  him,  he  exhausted 
his  own  funds,  and  still  losing  tried  to  stem  the  tide 
by  using  money  belonging  to  other  people.  There 
was  a  scandal  and  rather  than  face  disgrace  he  put 
a  bullet  through  his  brain. 

Eunice  was  at  college  when  the  tragedy  occurred 
that  made  her  mother  a  widow.  The  following  term 
she  was  to  have  taken  her  degree  and  she  had  planned 
after  graduation  to  take  up  literature  as  a  profession. 
She  was  full  of  these  ambitious  projects  for  the 
future  when  she  was  hastily  summoned  home.  That 
was  the  last  she  saw  of  college.  A  girl  of  uncommon 
intelligence  and  strength  of  character,  she  faced  philo- 
sophically the  new  situation  her  unhappy  father  had 
created.  Not  a  word  of  complaint,  not  a  reproach 
against  the  memory  of  the  dead  passed  her  lips.  She 
well  knew  that  henceforth  a  life  of  dependent  drudg- 
ery awaited  her,  but  she  made  no  protest.  Not  having 
taken  her  degree  she  could  not  aspire  to  a  lucrative 
professorship;  at  best  she  could  secure  a  position  as 


72  THE   END    OF 

assistant  teacher  in  some  small  school.  Their  fine 
apartment  and  fine  clothes  all  went  early  in  the  crash, 
and  their  fine  weather  friends  lost  no  time  following- 
suit.  Mrs.  Vincent,  racked  with  illness  and  discour- 
aged by  misfortune,  was  incapable  of  helping  herself, 
so  practically  all  the  work  of  reconstruction  fell  upon 
Eunice,  who  set  bravely  about  the  task  of  making 
order  out  of  chaos,  and  from  the  time  they  left  New 
York  to  the  day  six  months  later  when  her  mother 
died  in  her  arms,  she  was  the  provider  of  their  re- 
sources and  the  sole  manager  of  their  affairs.  Such 
cares  and  responsibilities  could  not  fail  to  leave  their 
impress  upon  the  girl  and  make  her  even  more  serious 
and  thoughtful  than  she  was  by  nature.  Adversity 
moulded  her  character  and  brought  to  quick  maturity 
the  sterling  qualities  that  were  in  her.  After  the  first 
violent  outburst  of  grief  following  her  mother's  death 
Eunice  turned  resolutely  to  battle  with  the  world. 
She  was  alone,  without  relatives,  without  friends. 
The  past  was  a  nightmare — the  future  a  blank.  She 
taught  for  a  year  in  a  private  school — a  position  little 
better  than  that  of  a  domestic  servant — and  was  res- 
cued from  this  slavery  by  the  kindness  of  a  former 
pupil  who  recommended  her  to  Mrs.  Marshall,  who 
was  then  looking  for  a  governess  companion  for 
Grace.  That  was  nearly  a  year  ago  and  she  had  been 
at  Alton  Court  ever  since. 

Roy  knew  all  this  in  a  general  way,  and  he  had 


THE    GAME  73 

for  her  that  keen  sympathy  which  any  man  of  gener- 
ous impulses  feels  for  a  woman  exposed  to  the  hard 
knocks  of  the  world.  What  a  hopeless  outlook,  he 
reflected,  what  a  future  at  the  best !  Suppose  she  fell 
ill.  Work  would  be  impossible,  her  savings  would 
soon  be  exhausted.  Then  what  would  become  of  her  ? 
She  could  marry,  but  the  man  she  cared  for  might 
not  want  a  girl  without  money,  and  she  was  not  the 
kind  to  like  any  man  merely  because  he  would  sup- 
port her.  He  could  see  by  the  toss  of  her  head  and 
the  flash  of  her  eye  that  she  was  proud.  He  judged 
her  rightly. 

This  first  meeting  was  not  the  last.  Roy  continued 
to  wander  in  that  part  of  the  park  more  often,  and  his 
presence  there  was  so  unusual  that  Grace  noticed  it. 
With  the  precocious  instinct  of  young  girls  of  her 
age,  Grace  instantly  jumped  at  the  conclusion  that 
her  governess  was  the  attraction.  Instead  of  being 
shocked  at  the  idea,  she  was  overjoyed.  Firstly,  it 
was  so  romantic,  quite  after  the  manner  of  novels 
she  had  read  where  the  governess  invariably  married 
the  heir  to  the  title;  secondly,  she  hated  Lucy  Mer- 
rick  and  would  welcome  any  new  arrangement  that 
would  prevent  her  becoming  her  sister-in-law.  Full 
of  enthusiasm  for  the  idea,  she  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  sound  Eunice  herself  on  the  subject. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  to  her  governess,  "  I 
don't  believe  Roy  cares  two  straws  for  Lucy." 


74  THE   END   OF 

"You  mustn't  say  such  things,"  replied  Eunice, 
shaking  her  head  reprovingly  at  her  ward. 

But  Grace  was  in  a  rebellious  mood.  With  a  know- 
ing smile  she  said : 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  I  don't  think  he  can  bear 
the  sight  of  her.  Papa  urged  it  upon  him.  The  poor 
boy  is  simply  being  dragged  into  it."  Then  as  if 
moved  by  a  sudden  impulse  she  cried,  "  Do  you  know 
what  I  would  like,  Eunice  ?  " 

"What,  dear?" 

"  I  would  like  Roy  to  marry  you.  Then  I'd  have 
you  for  my  sister." 

Miss  Vincent  flushed  and  then  turned  pale.  She 
rose  hurriedly  from  her  seat  and  faced  Grace. 

"  Grace,"  she  said  severely,  "  you  must  never  talk 
like  that  again.  Do  you  hear — never  again !  " 

She  walked  away  toward  the  house  followed  by 
her  contrite  and  crestfallen  pupil. 

After  Grace's  indiscreet  speech  Eunice  studiously 
avoided  Roy.  She  either  pretended  to  be  engrossed 
in  her  book  when  he  came  up  or  suddenly  remem- 
bered it  was  time  for  Grace's  piano  lesson.  Roy,  not 
understanding  what  had  happened  to  check  the  newly 
formed  friendship,  felt  hurt  and  angry,  and  one  day 
he  asked  her  bluntly : 

"  Why  do  you  always  run  away  from  me  ?  " 

She  could  think  of  no  good  reason,  so  she  remained 
silent. 


THE    GAME  75 

"  Do  I  annoy  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.    Only " 

She  hesitated,  not  knowing  how  to  make  him  un- 
derstand her  position. 

"  Only  nothing !  "  ejaculated  Roy.  "  You  see  you 
can't  even  find  an  excuse  if  you  try.  Well,  I'm  not 
going  to  let  you  escape  this  time.  I  like  talking  to 
you.  Surely  you  can  do  that  much  for  me  after 
saving  you  from  drowning." 

She  had  to  laugh  and  once  more  the  barrier  was 
overthrown,  they  were  as  before.  He  sat  with  her  the 
entire  afternoon,  talking  on  various  topics.  He  found 
her  well  informed  on  almost  every  subject.  He  could 
give  her  points  on  political,  scientific  and  other  ques- 
tions appealing  more  strongly  to  the  masculine  mind, 
but  when  it  came  to  literature,  art,  music  or  synthetic 
philosophy,  she  was  more  than  a  match  for  him. 
What  astonished  him  was  her  broad  outlook  on  life. 
She  reasoned  like  a  woman  of  forty  instead  of  a  girl 
barely  out  of  her  teens.  He  told  her  of  his  secret 
ambition,  to  accomplish  big  things,  to  build  up  and 
develop  Marshall  &  Co.  until  it  was  the  talk  of  the 
country.  He  was  delighted  to  find  her  responsive  and 
sympathetic,  entering  understandingly  into  all  his 
schemes  and  plans.  Hitherto  he  had  known  only 
one  kind  of  girl,  the  Lucy  Merrick  class,  vain,  frivo- 
lous, irresponsible,  pleasure  loving.  Such  women,  he 
pondered,  were  the  fitting  mates  for  the  drones  of 


76 


THE   END    OF 


life,  for  the  butterflies  of  fashion  who  can  afford  the 
time  to  give  them  the  round  of  pleasures  they  demand. 
They  were  not  the  women  who  spur  men  on  to  the 
achievement  or  bear  children  destined  to  make  the 
greatness  of  the  nation. 

So  the  days  passed.  The  interviews  in  the  park 
grew  more  frequent  and  they  lasted  longer.  Roy  soon 
noticed  that  his  sister  had  a  strange  habit  of  disap- 
pearing. He  had  no  sooner  passed  a  few  conven- 
tional remarks  about  the  weather  than  Grace  vanished 
as  completely  as  if  the  earth  had  swallowed  her,  and 
when  she  reappeared  after  the  lapse  of  an  hour  or 
so  she  had  a  roguish  smile  on  her  face  that  anyone 
but  a  blind  man  would  have  understood.  But  it  did 
not  occur  to  him  or  Eunice  that  she  was  doing  it 
as  part  of  a  deliberate  plan.  Her  heart  was  set  on 
her  favorite  brother  marrying  the  Eunice  she  had 
come  to  love  as  a  sister.  She  did  not  see  that  it  was 
possible,  yet  she  intended  to  help  it  along  in  every 
way  possible.  But  Roy  and  Eunice  were  serenely  un- 
conscious of  all  this,  and  during  her  absences  chatted 
as  freely  as  if  they  had  been  acquainted  for  years. 

Eunice  ceased  to  feel  embarrassment  when  Roy 
joined  them.  She  knew  he  was  attached  to  his  sister 
and  saw  nothing  unusual  in  his  constantly  seeking 
them  out.  It  was  strange,  she  thought,  that  he  was 
not  more  in  Miss  Merrick's  society,  but  she  was  quite 
willing  to  accept  Grace's  valuation  of  his  real  feelings 


THE    GAME  77 

in  that  quarter.  She  rather  despised  Roy  for  lending 
himself  to  an  arrangement  of  such  obvious  sordidness. 
She  realized  that  his  father  was  to  blame  more  than 
he,  and  she  found  many  qualities  in  the  young  man 
to  admire.  He  was  cleaner  in  mind  and  freer  than 
most  men  of  the  vices  common  in  young  fellows  of 
his  age.  He  did  not  gamble,  he  did  not  drink.  His 
outlook  on  life  was  serious  and  he  was  filled  with  a 
healthy  energy  and  ambition.  She  saw  a  brilliant 
future  for  a  man  with  his  great  natural  ability  and 
his  power  of  application.  He  could  go  far  with  the 
right  hand  to  guide  him,  the  right  influence  to  inspire 
him,  but  how  far  and  in  what  direction  would  such 
a  woman  as  Lucy  Merrick  take  him? 

She  found  herself  thinking  what  a  far  more  suitable 
wife  she  herself  would  make  him.  She  had  never 
given  marriage  a  thought,  she  had  not  considered  it 
within  the  range  of  possibilities.  Her  life,  as  far  as 
she  could  see,  would  have  to  be  spent  in  lonely  soli- 
tude. She  knew  very  few  people  and  she  had  met 
no  men  whom  she  could  care  for  sufficiently  to  marry. 
It  was  more  than  likely  that  she  would  die  an  old 
maid.  She,  of  all  women  intended  by  Nature  to  be 
man's  faithful  companion  and  the  mother  of  his  chil- 
dren, seemed  destined  to  end  her  days  in  sterile  celi- 
bacy. If  the  fates  had  been  kinder,  if  she  had  been 
commanded  to  select  a  husband  and  given  her  choice 
among  the  sons  of  men,  Roy  Marshall  would  have  ap- 


8  THE   END    OF 

pealed  to  her.  He  was  manly,  of  strong  character, 
clever,  ambitious,  full  of  energy.  He  was  also  gentle 
and  affectionate— she  could  see  that  by  his  manner 
toward  his  sister.  To  travel  life's  long  journey  with 
such  a  companion— ah,  that  would  be  living.  She 
could  not,  of  course,  help  seeing  by  this  time  that  he 
found  more  pleasure  in  her  society  than  in  that  of  his 
intended  wife,  and  while  it  made  her  heart  pulsate 
faster  to  think  that  he  liked  her,  the  knowledge 
of  it  really  only  tended  to  make  her  unhappy.  What 
was  the  use?  Supposing  he  loved  her  and  she  loved 
him,  they  could  never  be  anything  to  each  other.  He 
was  bound  to  another  woman,  if  not  by  actual  prom- 
ise, by  the  most  important  business  interests.  He 
could  not  afford  to  upset  the  plans  on  which  all  his 
hopes  centred.  She  would  not  permit  it.  Rather 
than  imperil  his  future  career  she  would  go  away. 
Then  at  least  no  one  could  accuse  her  of  abusing  the 
confidence  of  the  family  and  using  her  position  to 
steal  the  affections  of  the  son. 

Still  she  continued  to  see  Roy  every  day.  Gradually 
and  almost  unnoticed  by  themselves  they  formed  an 
alliance  of  friendship,  he  confiding  in  her,  she  in  him. 
He  admitted  that  the  proposed  marriage  was  worrying 
him,  that  he  did  not  love  Lucy  Merrick  and  never 
could,  and  that  he  felt  a  sense  of  degradation  in  per- 
mitting himself  to  be  bartered  in  this  fashion.  Eunice 
could  say  nothing  in  favor  of  it,  so  she  was  silent. 


THE    GAME  79 

Changing  the  conversation,  she  told  him  about  her 
own  childhood,  their  happy  years  of  prosperity  and 
the  dreadful  tragedy  of  her  father's  death.  And  when 
they  thought  they  had  talked  only  a  few  minutes 
Grace  would  return  and  tell  them  it  was  two  hours. 

The  recollection  of  these  pleasant  hours  spent 
under  the  trees  in  the  park  was  in  Roy's  mind  now  as 
he  sat  there  on  the  terrace  facing  his  father,  who 
awaited  his  answer.  In  these  three  short  weeks  he 
seemed  to  have  lived  a  century.  Everything  was 
changed,  he  had  another  outlook  on  the.  worjd,  a  new 
interest  had  come  into  his  life — Eunice  Vincent.  Ah, 
why  not  confess  to  his  father  now,  why  not  cry  it 
out  to  the  whole  world  ?  He  loved  this  woman,  penni- 
less as  she  was.  Her  one  little  finger  was  dearer  to 
him  than  all  the  millions  Lucy  Merrick  could  bring 
him.  What  a  cur  he  was  to  think  that  a  wife  can  be 
bartered  for  like  a  common  prostitute.  Ugh !  he  hated 
himself  for  having  lent  himself  to  such  infamous 
trafficking  in  flesh  and  honor.  If  the  fortunes  of  the 
family  were  in  peril,  why  should  he  be  made  the 
victim?  He  harbored  deep  resentment  against  his 
father  for  having  forced  the  odious  marriage  upon 
him  and  he  felt  all  the  worse  because  he  knew  how 
Eunice  must  despise  him.  Ah,  she  was  the  only  wom- 
an he  could  be  happy  with,  she  was  the  one  woman 
in  the  world  to  help  him  on  to  success.  One  look 
from  her  tranquil,  gray  eyes  and  he  felt  he  could  go 


80  THE   END    OF 

forth  to  conquer  a  kingdom.  But  would  she  marry 
him? 

At  that  instant  and  while  he  was  still  engrossed  in 
his  thoughts  he  saw  Miss  Vincent  jump  suddenly  to 
stop  a  ball.  She  tripped  and  fell  heavily.  The  other 
players  ran  to  her,  but  for  a  moment  she  did  not 
move.  Roy  started  from  his  seat  with  the  involuntary 
exclamation : 

"She's  hurt!  "he  cried. 

His  father  followed  the  direction  of  his  son's  gaze 
and  saw  the  cause  of  his  concern.  Eunice  meantime 
picked  herself  up  and  the  game  proceeded. 

"  Oh,  Roy,  that  reminds  me,"  said  his  father,  eying 
the  young  man  keenly.  "  I  have  noticed  of  late  that 
you  are  a  good  deal  with  Miss  Vincent.  I  suppose  it 
means  nothing.  She's  a  nice-looking  girl  and  I  know 
what  young  men  of  your  age  are — I  was  a  good  deal 
of  a  flirt  myself — "  he  interjected  with  jocularity. 
"  But  don't  let  Lucy  see  it,  my  boy,  or  there'll  be  the 
devil  to  pay.  You're  too  sensible,  I  hope,  to  allow  any 
folly  of  that  kind  to  imperil  your  interests,  aren't 
you?" 

Roy  set  his  teeth.  Hadn't  the  moment  come  to 
throw  off  the  mask  and  tell  his  father  the  truth,  con- 
fess honestly  that  he  did  not  love  Lucy  Merrick  and 
could  never  marry  her,  and  that  Eunice  Vincent  was 
the  only  woman  he  could  marry?  He  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak  when  suddenly  there  was  a  commotion 


THE    GAME  81 

at  the  foot  of  the  terrace.  Grace  and  her  brother 
Ned  raced  up,  their  rackets  in  hand,  followed  in  more 
dignified  fashion  by  Lucy  and  Miss  Vincent. 

"  Hallo ! "  hailed  Roy,  glad  of  the  interruption. 
"  Finished  your  game  already  ?  What's  the  score  ?  " 

"  Three  to  love,"  cried  Ned.  "  Miss  Vincent  and  I 
beat  Grace  and  Miss  Merrick  hollow." 

Grace  meanwhile  had  run  up  to  Roy  and  thrown 
her  arms  affectionately  round  his  neck.  Placing  her 
mouth  close  to  his  ear  she  whispered: 

"  Oh,  Roy,  I  am  so  wretched.  What  do  you  think?" 

"  What,  child  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  pet  her. 

"  Eunice  has  just  told  me  she  is  going  away.  She 
saw  mother  this  morning  and  said  she  wished  to  leave 
at  once.  She's  going  to-morrow." 


82  THE   END   OF 


CHAPTER  IV 

IF  his  sister  had  suddenly  thrown  a  bomb  at  him 
Roy  could  not  have  been  more  startled  than  he 
was  at  the  news  that  Grace  brought.  During 
the  past  few  days  there  had  taken  place  such  a  revolu- 
tionary change  in  his  ideas,  men  and  things  appeared 
under  an  aspect  so  entirely  different  that  he  walked 
about  in  a  daze.  He  felt  as  if  he  were  part  of  a 
dream.  The  usual  routine  of  every  day  was  neglected. 
He  trod  on  air  and  built  castles  in  Spain.  He  was 
in  love,  and,  as  with  most  lovers,  logic  never  entered 
with  his  reasoning.  It  had  never  occurred  to  him  that 
at  any  moment  Eunice  might  leave  Alton  Court,  either 
of  her  own  accord  or  at  the  request  of  his  mother, 
alarmed  at  their  growing  intimacy.  Eunice  herself 
had  given  no  hint  of  any  such  intention.  The  news, 
therefore,  that  she  was  going  away  immediately  came 
with  all  the  force  of  an  unexpected  shock.  He  expe- 
rienced the  same  feeling  of  utter,  blank  dismay  as  if 
he  had  just  been  told  that  some  ome  very  dear  to  him 
who  had  been  ill  was  not  expected  to  recover.  For 
the  first  time  he  realized  how  completely  Eunice  had 
come  into  his  life,  how  essential  she  was  to  his  hap- 
piness. He  knew  now  that  he  loved  her. 


THE    GAME  83 

His  first  impulse  was  to  rush  to  her  and  demand 
an  explanation  of  this  mysterious  resignation  which, 
he  could  not  help  thinking,  was  in  some  way  con- 
nected with  himself.  Perhaps  his  father  or  the  Mer- 
ricks  had  noticed  the  frequency  of  their  conversations 
in  the  park,  and  had  said  something  to  her  which  a 
girl  with  her  spirit  could  not  tolerate.  He  determined 
to  ascertain  the  reason  at  once,  so  leaving  the  group 
on  the  terrace  unceremoniously  he  proceeded  in  search 
of  his  mother.  Mrs.  Merrick  had  gone  home  and  he 
found  Mrs.  Marshall  busy  with  some  embroidery  in 
her  room. 

"Why,  Roy,  what's  the  matter?  You  look  wor- 
ried," she  smiled  as  he  entered. 

He  did  not  wait  to  seek  words,  but  plunged  right  in. 

"  Mother,  what's  this  Grace  tells  me?  Miss  Vincent 
is  going  to  leave  us  ?  " 

His  mother  arched  her  eyebrows  in  well  simulated 
surprise.  "  What  interest  can  you  take  in  the  goings 
and  comings  of  your  sister's  governess  ?  " 

Roy's  surmise  that  his  mother's  suspicions  had  been 
aroused  was  correct.  Sooner  even  than  the  lynx-eyed 
contractor,  Mrs.  Marshall  had  noticed  her  son's 
marked  liking  for  Miss  Vincent's  company.  She  had 
said  nothing  to  her  husband,  as  she  shrank  from 
arousing  his  wrath,  but  she  made  up  her  mind  that 
Grace's  governess  would  have  to  go.  She  was  sorry, 
for  she  liked  Eunice,  and  she  knew  it  would  also  be 


84 

a  blow  to  Grace,  but  they  could  not  afford  to  take 
any  chances.  It  was  so  unusual  for  Roy  to  notice 
any  girl  that  when  he  did  it  was  likely  to  be  serious 
unless  checked  in  the  bud.  So  Mrs.  Marshall  had 
fully  made  up  her  mind  to  give  the  governess  notice 
when  Eunice  came  to  her  and  said  she  wished  to  go. 
Mrs.  Marshall  paused  and  looked  at  her  son  for  an 
answer,  but  he  said  nothing,  standing  in  embarrassed 
silence. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  Lucy  didn't  hear  you,"  she  said 
dryly. 

Unable  to  restrain  himself  longer,  Roy  burst  out: 

"Why  beat  about  the  bush  any  longer,  mother? 
You  must  have  seen  that  I  cannot  bear  Lucy.  The 
very  sight  of  her  is  odious  to  me." 

"And  Miss  Vincent?"  inquired  his  mother  signifi- 
cantly, "is  she  less  objectionable  to  you?" 

The  young  man  flushed  and  made  no  reply.  But 
Mrs.  Marshall  did  not  need  any  further  explanation. 
She  sighed  and  shook  her  head: 

"Ah,  Roy,  a  mother's  instinct  is  seldom  at  fault. 
When  Miss  Vincent  came  to  me  this  morning  and 
told  me  that  she  must  go,  without  being  able  to  give 
me  any  satisfactory  reason,  it  only  confirmed  what  I 
had  already  guessed.  If  she  hadn't  left  of  her  own 
accord  I  should  have  sent  her  away.  But  she  has 
wisely  taken  the  only  step  a  self-respecting  girl  could 
take.  I  admire  her  for  it.  Your  intentions  have 


THE   GAME  85 

placed  her  in  a  false  position  here.  As  to  Lacy,  I 
feared  how  that  would  end.  I  can't  blame  you  for  not 
liking  the  girl.  I  told  your  father  she  was  not  suited 
to  you,  but  he  would  not  listen  to  me.  It  will  be  a 
terrible  disappointment  to  your  father.  I  would  be 
afraid  to  tell  him.  Has  anything  definite  passed  be- 
tween you  and  Miss  Vincent?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not  spoken  to  her  as  yet  because  I  did 
not  have  the  courage."  Then  with  a  burst  of  enthu- 
siasm he  cried :  "  Oh,  you  don't  know  what  a  splendid 
character  she  has!  There's  as  much  difference  be- 
tween her  and  Lucy  as  there  is  between  a  flawless 
pearl  and  a  glass  imitation.  I  love  her  as  I  never 
believed  I  could  love  any  woman.  I  want  to  make 
her  my  wife.  She  is  necessary  to  me.  With  her  at 
my  side  I  could  succeed  at  anything,  fail  in  nothing. 
I  never  felt  that  way  with  Lucy." 

Mrs.  Marshall  shook  her  head. 

"Your  father  will  never  give  his  consent,  Roy. 
This  girl  may  be  all  you  say,  but  she  has  one  cardinal 
fault — she  is  penniless.  He  has  explained  to  you  why 
you  must  marry  for  money.  If  you  were  to  go 
against  his  wishes  and  marry  this  girl  in  spite  of  him, 
he  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  you— I'm 
sure  of  that." 

"All  right,"  retorted  Roy  angrily,  "then  I'll  see 
what  I  can  do  for  myself.  This  is  a  free  country.  I 
am  of  age  and  my  own  master.  I  refuse  to  be 


86  THE   END    OF 

shackled  to  a  woman  I  despise.    Why  should  I  suffer 
that  Marshall  &  Company  shall  prosper?" 

"  It  seems  unjust,"  replied  his  mother,  "  but  life  is 
like  that.  What  we  crave  for  most  is  hard  to  get, 
and  often  when  we  get  it  we  find  we  did  not  want 
it  so  much  after  all.  Men  and  women  are  continually 
pursuing  the  shadow.  The  unattainable  is  really  what 
we  desire  most.  How  can  you  be  sure,  on  so  short 
an  acquaintance,  that  she  is  the  girl  who  would  make 
you  happy?  You  do  not  even  know  if  she  cares  for 
you.  Disinterested  love  is  a  beautiful  ideal;  one 
seldom  sees  it.  You  are  just  about  to  start  on  a  bus- 
iness career.  You  can  do  nothing  without  money. 
You  would  be  insane  to  throw  away  a  fortune  and  in- 
cur the  responsibilities  of  married  life  with  a  girl  who 
could  bring  you  nothing.  You  must  think  of  your 
material  interests.  Romance  is  all  very  well,  but  one 
can't  live  on  love  alone.  Your  father  is  right  from 
his  standpoint — a  standpoint  based  upon  life  expe- 
rience. This  girl  has  nothing,  whereas  Lucy  will 
bring  you  $200,000  and  more.  Stop  and  think,  Roy. 
Don't  make  a  mistake.  So  many  lives  have  been 
wrecked  by  young  people  being  obstinate  in  these 
matters.  Let  older  heads  think  for  you.  Your  father 
has  explained  the  situation  frankly  to  you.  The  bus- 
iness needs  the  money  which  your  marriage  with 
Lucy  will  bring.  That  is  where  your  future  lies,  your 
hopes  of  success,  your  happiness.  Your  infatuation 


THE    GAME  87 

for  Miss  Vincent  is  only  a  passing  fancy.  To- 
morrow she  will  be  gone  and  you  will  speedily  forget 
her." 

"  Never !  "  he  exclaimed  with  an  earnestness  that 
astonished  his  mother.  "  Happiness  cannot  be  built 
on  an  arrangement  so  mercenary,  sordid,  and  degrad- 
ing. Such  marriages  keep  the  divorce  courts  busy 
and  corrupt  the  public  morals.  Look  at  our  multi- 
millionaires' daughters  who  purchased  foreign  titles 
with  their  money.  How  many  of  those  marriages  turn 
out  well?  Think  of  the  indignities,  the  humiliations, 
the  mental  suffering  those  American  women  have 
borne  in  silence,  before  they  fled  from  their  cads  of 
husbands  and  confessed  to  a  sensation-loving  world 
that  their  dollar-made  marriage  was  a  hideous  failure ! 
There  is  only  one  kind  of  marriage  which  endure*  and 
which  is  productive  of  happiness — the  marriage  by 
natural  selection,  the  union  that  grows  out  of  a  man's 
true  love  for  a  good  woman.  If  I'm  honest  in  nothing 
else  I  want  to  be  honest  with  the  woman  I  make  my 
wife.  I  refuse  to  live  a  lie.  If  Miss  Vincent  will  have 
me  I  will  marry  her,  cost  what  it  may." 

He  dropped  his  defiant  tone  and  pleaded  with  her. 
Marriage,  he  argued,  had  done  more  to  elevate 
man  than  any  other  phase  of  the  civilization  which 
distinguished  him  from  the  brute.  The  honest,  true 
marriage  born  of  mutual  attraction  and  nourished  on 
love  and  affection,  was  a  splendid,  vital  institution, 


o«  THE    END    OF 

Oo 

inseparable  from  the  health  and  well-being  of  the 
State.  Money  matches,  resting  wholly  on  self-interest, 
without  an  iota  of  regard  or  affection  on  either  side, 
and  often  a  cloak  for  polygamous  practices,  were 
merely  legalized  cohabitation,  demoralizing  and  de- 
grading the  whole  people,  and  if  permitted  to  thrive 
in  our  social  life  would,  like  a  cancer,  sap  and  under- 
mine the  vitality  of  the  nation. 

"  Mother,"  he  cried,  "  is  it  worthy  of  you  to  ask  me 
to  sell  myself  to  help  others?  Is  not  your  son's  hap- 
piness dear  to  you  as  the  prosperity  of  Marshall  & 
Co.?  I  feel  that  this  is  the  girl  I  should  marry?  She 
will  help  me  to  success.  Lucy  Merrick  would  have 
made  my  life  a  failure.  After  all,"  he  said  with  a 
little  nervous  laugh  which  had  an  ironical  ring,  "  it  is 
not  so  much  a  question  of  whether  she  will  make  me 
a  good  wife  as  whether  I  shall  make  her  a  worthy 
husband." 

Mrs.  Marshall  made  no  reply.  Her  son's  rebuke 
cut  deep.  He  was  right,  she  thought.  If  she  allowed 
herself  to  argue  thus  selfishly  against  her  better  in- 
stincts it  was  only  because  she  wished  to  see  him 
prosperous.  It  was  fine  to  have  high  principles,  but  it 
was  hard  to  pay  one's  bills.  She  knew  only  too  well 
what  the  tragedy  of  marrying  on  nothing  a  year 
meant.  He  was  right,  too,  about  the  girl.  Woman, 
it  was  true,  was  woman's  worst  enemy.  A  mother 
never  stopped  to  think  what  kind  of  a  husband  her 


THE    GAME  89 

son  will  make,  what  chances  a  girl  is  taking  in  com- 
mitting her  happiness  to  his  keeping,  but  worried  only 
about  the  comfort  and  welfare  of  her  own. 

"  Well,  Roy,"  she  said  peevishly,  "  I  can  do  noth- 
ing. Miss  Vincent  simply  told  me  that  she  was  going. 
Under  the  circumstances  the  sooner  she  goes  the 
better.  If  your  father  knew  the  truth  he  would  not 
allow  her  to  remain  another  instant." 

"  I  will  see  my  father,"  said  Roy  grimly.  "  We 
might  as  well  come  to  an  understanding  now.  I  shall 
tell  him,  once  for  all,  that  my  marrying  Lucy  Merrick 
is  impossible.  Leaving  Miss  Vincent  entirely  out  of 
the  question — that  determination  is  irrevocable." 

He  left  the  room  resolved  to  go  at  once  and  have 
it  out  with  his  sire.  It  was  not,  however,  without 
considerable  trepidation  that  he  turned  his  footsteps 
in  the  direction  of  the  library  where  he  expected  to 
find  him.  He  knew  by  experience  that  his  father  was 
not  a  patient  man,  and  when  his  will  was  opposed 
and  his  wrath  aroused  he  was  subject  to  paroxysms 
of  rage  that  were  almost  alarming.  The  announce- 
ment that  he,  Roy,  had  to  make,  shattering  as  it  did 
all  his  father's  carefully  laid  and  much  cherished 
plans,  would  be  a  terrible  blow,  and  no  doubt  there 
would  be  a  disagreeable  scene.  But  there  was  no  help 
for  it.  The  situation  must  be  faced  some  time. 
Eunice's  resignation  had  merely  precipitated  matters. 
He  wondered  if  it  was  true  that  she  was  leaving  Alton 


go  THE  END   OF 

Court  because  of  him.  If  so,  he  could  not  be  entirely 
indifferent  to  her.  She  wished  to  escape  because  she 
could  not  trust  herself;  and  his  pulse  quickened  as 
he  thought  she  might  care  for  him. 

He  went  downstairs  expecting  to  find  his  father 
still  on  the  terrace,  but  when  he  got  there  he  found 
they  had  all  gone  in.  He  re-entered  the  house  and 
went  along  the  corridor  leading  to  the  library.  As 
he  passed  the  music  room  he  caught  sight  of  Eunice 
sitting  at  the  piano.  Her  back  was  turned  to  him  and 
she  was  playing  softly  one  of  Beethoven's  sonatas. 
All  his  life  Roy  had  been  a  creature  of  impulse  and 
he  acted  on  impulse  now.  Instead  of  continuing  on 
to  the  library  to  confront  his  father,  he  entered  the 
music  room  on  tiptoe  and  approached  Eunice  noise- 
lessly. She  continued  to  play  unconscious  of  his 
presence.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood  unobserved 
behind  her,  drinking  in  the  subtle  perfume  which 
arose  from  her  hair,  watching  her  white  slender  fin- 
gers as  they  glided  over  the  keys.  Presently  he  made 
a  slight  movement,  and  looking  up  she  gave  a  little 
cry: 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Marshall,  how  you  frightened  me !  I 
had  no  idea  you  were  there." 

She  rose  from  the  piano  and  started  to  arrange 
some  loose  sheets  of  music. 

"What's    this    Grace    tells    me?"    he    demanded 


THE   GAME  91 

abruptly,  almost  roughly.  "You're  leaving  Alton 
Court  for  good  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  avoiding  his  searching 
glance,  "  I  have  to  go." 

"You  said  nothing  about  it  to  me,"  he  said  in  an 
injured  tone.  "Why  are  you  going?" 

"  Must  I  give  a  reason  ?  " 

She  spoke  with  hauteur  as  if  she  resented  his  tone 
of  proprietorship.  He  was  quick  to  notice  the  tinge 
of  sarcasm  in  her  query.  He  felt  she  had  again 
snubbed  him  as  she  had  that  first  day  in  the  park. 
But  he  knew  her  better  now,  so  he  only  smiled. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said  with  mock  courtesy ;  "  I 
thought  that  by  this  time  I  was  considered  enough  of 
a  friend  to  be  allowed  to  take  interest  in  your  doings, 
especially  when  they  seem  to  be  opposed  to  your  best 
interests,  as  this  sudden  departure  is." 

She  was  quite  disarmed.  Her  eyes  met  his.  He 
thought  he  saw  a  sadness  and  melancholy  in  the  gray 
depths  of  her  eyes.  In  the  dim,  uncertain  light  her 
face  looked  paler  than  usual. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  murmured.  "  I  know  you  are 
my  friend.  I  did  not  mean  to  say  that  to  you.  But 
really  I  must  go.  There  is  a  reason — a  good  reason 
which  I  cannot  explain." 

"  You  can't  tell  me  what  it  is  ?  "  he  demanded 

She  shook  her  head. 


92  THE   END    OF 

"Has  anyone  here  been  unkind  to  you— are  you 
less  happy  or  less  comfortable  than  you  were?" 

"  No— everyone  is  kind.    I  am  perfectly  happy." 

"Then  I  don't  understand,"  he  said,  appearing  to 
be  puzzled. 

His  mother  was  right.  It  was  from  himself  that 
this  girl  was  fleeing  and  his  heart  leaped  with  joy 
as  he  realized  what  he  had  won.  Aloud  he  added : 

"  Grace  will  be  sorry  to  lose  you.  She  loves  you 
dearly.  Where  are  you  going?  Didn't  you  tell  me 
you  were  alone  in  the  world  ?  " 

She  remained  silent,  her  head  averted.  In  the 
mirror  opposite  he  could  see  that  she  was  weep- 
ing. He  stole  close  up  behind  her  and  whispered 
softly: 

"  Before  you  go — I  want  to  say  something  to  you 
— something  your  heart  may  have  told  you  already. 
Grace  is  not  the  only  one  here  who  will  miss  you, 
Grace  is  not  the  only  one  here  to  whom  you  have 
made  yourself  necessary.  Eunice,  I " 

She  rose  to  elude  him  and  flee,  her  face  flushed,  her 
heart  beating  wildly  like  that  of  a  bird  caught  in  a 
snare.  She  had  dreaded  this  moment,  she  had  seen 
it  coming  and  she  had  planned  to  run  away  and  escape 
it.  But  his  hand  held  her  arm  in  a  vise-like  grip  and 
his  breath  was  warm  upon  her  cheek.  He  spoke 
feverishly,  disconnectedly,  like  a  man  who  has  tem- 
porarily lost  normal  control  of  himself: 


THE    GAME  93 

"Don't  go,"  he  pleaded;  "let  me  finish.  Let  me 
say  now  what  I  have  been  eager  to  tell  you  for  days. 
I  love  you.  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  that  day 
I  found  you  reading  in  the  park.  I  thought  I  knew 
women.  Secretly  I  despised  all  women  because  the 
only  ones  I  had  met  were  frivolous,  empty-headed. 
You  attracted  me  instantly.  Your  serene,  serious  out- 
look on  life,  your  splendid  intelligence,  your  gentle- 
ness, amiability  and  sweetness  of  disposition  fasci- 
nated and  charmed  me.  I  saw  in  you  a  woman  whom 
any  man  might  be  proud  to  make  his  life  companion 
— his  wife." 

She  listened  in  silence,  standing  apart  from  him, 
and  in  the  rapidly  fading  light  of  the  late  afternoon, 
mellowed  by  the  reddish  glow  that  filtered  through 
the  old-fashioned  colored  glass  windows,  she  looked 
white  and  distressed. 

"  Please  don't  say  any  more,  Mr.  Marshall,"  she  in- 
terrupted. "  I  appreciate  the  honor  you  pay  me,  but 
I  have  no  right  to  listen  to  you.  Miss  Merrick " 

"  Miss  Merrick !  "  he  echoed  bitterly.  "  I  would 
not  marry  Miss  Merrick  if  she  were  the  last  woman 
left  in  the  world.  It  is  only  since  I  have  known  you 
that  I  have  fully  realized  what  degradation  that  would 
have  been.  You  alone  I  love — you  alone  I  want  for 
my  wife." 

"  I  had  no  idea,"  she  answered  softly,  "  that  you 
thought  of  me  in  that  way.  I  am  sorry  because " 


94 


THE    END    OF 


She  paused  and  then  with  an  effort  added :  "  because 
I  cannot  encourage  it." 

rt  But  you  have  encouraged  me,"  he  protested 
hotly.  "  You  encouraged  me  when  you  spoke  of  what 
a  man  might  achieve  with  the  right  kind  of  a  woman 
to  help  him,  you  encouraged  me  in  every  word  you 
uttered.  A  woman  can  influence  a  man  for  good 
or  evil.  You  would  be  my  influence  for  good  You 
have  brought  the  sun  into  my  life.  Don't  go  now 
and  leave  me  to  my  former  darkness." 

"  I  must — I  must !  "  she  said,  averting  her  face. 

Roy  seized  her  hands,  but  quickly  she  withdrew 
them,  and  shrunk  farther  away  from  him. 

"  Ah !  "  he  said  bitterly.  "  I  see.  I  have  made  a 
mistake.  I  thought  you  were  not  indifferent  to  me, 
but  you  show  me  plainly  enough  that  I've  made  a 
fool  of  myself." 

"  I  am  not  indifferent  to  you,"  she  replied  gently ; 
"I  shall  always  remember  you,  but — there  can  be  noth- 
ing else  between  us.  I  am  going  away  so  that  both 
of  us — you  and  I — may  avoid  a  mistake  that  we  might 
regret  all  our  lives.  You  say  that  you  love  me.  How 
can  I  be  sure  that  you  really  care  for  me  ?  You  think 
you  do — that  I  believe.  I  do  not  doubt  your  perfect 
loyalty.  But  how  can  I  be  certain  that  it  is  not  a 
mere  infatuation  of  which  you  might  repent  later? 
It  would  break  my  heart  if  one  day  I  discovered  you 
were  sorry  that  you  had  married  me.  I  have  had 


THE   GAME  95 

enough  misery  in  the  past.  I  shrink  from  the  risk  of 
fresh  sorrow.  Besides,  do  you  suppose  I  want  your 
family  to  accuse  me  of  having  robbed  Miss  Merrick 
of  your  affections?  That  is  why  I  am  leaving  Alton 
Court.  Happy  as  my  life  has  been  here,  I  must  go." 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  taking  his  continued: 
"  Forget  me,  Mr.  Marshall.  Your  family  interests, 
your  business  future  depend  on  your  marrying  in  ac- 
cordance with  your  father's  wishes.  Don't  imperil  the 
splendid  future  he  has  planned  for  you.  I  am  a  poor 
girl  without  family  or  fortune,  and  who  must  make  her 
livelihood  as  best  she  can.  You  will  succeed  in  every- 
thing you  undertake.  I  know  that.  I  shall  watch 
your  career  from  afar  and  constantly  pray  for  your 
success.  But  our  lives  lie  apart.  Good-by !  " 

Her  voice  trembled  with  an  emotion  which  she  en- 
deavored to  conceal,  and  withdrawing  her  hand  which 
was  still  clasped  in  his,  she  turned  to  leave  the  room. 
Roy  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  I  will  not  let  you  go,"  he  cried.  "  I  love  you — I 
love  you.  You  admit  that  you  care  for  me.  Why 
should  not  your  life  be  happy  too  ?  If  you  go,  then  I 
go  too.  I'll  follow  you  till  the  end  of  the  earth.  Now 
I  have  found  you  I  will  not  consent  to  lose  you.  If 
you  really  care  for  me,  why  should  you  not  marry  me  ? 
Eunice,  be  my  wife !  I  love  you !  I  love  you !  " 

He  spoke  ardently,  passionately,  his  strong  arms 
clasping  her  slender  form  tightly  against  his  breast. 


96  THE   END    OF 

For  a  moment  she  rested  motionless  in  his  embrace, 
her  bosom  heaving.  He  seemed  to  have  communicated 
to  her  something  of  his  ardor.  She  abandoned  herself 
and  for  a  brief  instant  her  head  dropped  upon  his 
shoulder.  But  quickly  the  moment  of  weakness 
passed.  She  recovered  her  self-possession  and  drew 
away. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head,  "  it  cannot 
be.  I  will  not  come  between  you  and  your  parents — I 
will  not.  I  shall  leave  Alton  Court  to-morrow 
morning." 

She  spoke  in  a  broken,  somewhat  convulsive  voice 
and  with  a  manifest  effort  as  if  trying  to  stifle  her  own 
feelings,  to  convince  him,  against  her  own  wish,  that 
it  was  folly  to  attempt  to  dissuade  her  from  her  pur- 
pose. Her  determination  was  not  to  be  shaken.  She 
had  fully  made  up  her  mind  to  go.  She  could  not 
remain  a  day  longer  in  this  house  conscious,  as  she 
had  been  for  some  days,  that  Roy  was  paying  her 
unusual  attention  and  that  she  cared  for  him  more 
than  she  dared  admit  even  to  herself.  She  felt  a 
sense  of  guilt  as  if  she  were  to  blame  for  this  mutual 
attraction  which  she  knew  could  only  have  one  ending 
— unhappiness  for  her.  She  liked  Roy  immensely, 
more  than  anyone  she  had  ever  known ;  whether  it  was 
love  she  felt  for  him  she  did  not  know.  She  only  knew 
that  the  day  seemed  brighter  when  he  joined  them 
in  those  stolen  interviews  in  the  park  and  that  the 


THE    GAME  97 

time  dragged  when  he  had  gone.  She  thought  too 
much  of  Roy  to  believe  that  he  was  deliberately 
trifling  with  her.  On  the  contrary,  his  every  word 
and  action  assured  her  that  he  really  liked  her.  But 
what  was  the  use?  His  position,  his  future  success 
demanded  other  plans.  Even  if  he  were  willing  she 
would  refuse  the  responsibility  of  wrecking  his  career. 
No,  she  must  go. 

Roy  stood  looking  at  her  in  gloomy  silence. 

"  Where  will  you  go  ?  What  will  you  do  ?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

"  I  shall  do  what  I  did  before  I  came  here — teach 
school,"  she  replied  wearily.  "  The  position  I  left  in 
Boston  I  can  have  for  the  asking.  I  shall  go  back 
there.  Good-by,"  she  added,  smiling  and  extending 
her  hand ;  "  we  part  good  friends." 

He  took  her  hand  in  silence. 

"  Not  good-by,"  he  murmured.  "  I  shall  come  for 
you." 

"  No,"  she  answered  resolutely,  "  indeed  you  must 
not.  I  forbid  it.  You  must  forget  me.  Good-by." 

There  was  a  swish  of  skirts  and  she  had  disappeared. 
Roy  stood  a  moment  irresolute,  not  knowing  what  to 
do,  whether  to  run  after  her  and  forbid  her  departure 
or  to  go  and  have  it  out  with  his  father.  He  felt  just 
in  the  mood  for  a  fight  and  he  did  not  care  what 
happened.  He  never  knew  how  much  he  loved  her 
until  now  and  the  thought  that  he  might  lose  her 


98  THE   END   OP 

maddened  him.  He  would  see  her  again  In  the 
morning  before  her  departure,  and  ask  her  permis- 
sion to  make  at  least  one  call  on  her  in  Boston.  There, 
away  from  his  father's  influence,  he  would  have  a 
better  chance. 

As  he  stood  there  cogitating,  he  did  not  hear  a  light 
step  behind  him  and  he  was  unconscious  anyone  was 
there  until  he  heard  a  laughing  voice  exclaim: 

"  Hallo,  Roy,  how  serious  you  look !  Whatever  can 
you  be  thinking  about?  You  look  as  if  you  had  lost 
your  best  friend." 

It  was  Grace. 

"Is  that  you,  sis?"  he  said,  putting  his  arm  affec- 
tionately around  her.  "  Yes — you're  right,  I  am  about 
to  lose  a  friend." 

The  young  girl  looked  up  at  him  in  wonder.  She 
was  not  accustomed  to  see  her  brother  so  grave. 

"  A  friend ! "  she  echoed  wonderingly,  "  what 
friend?  "  Then  light  dawned  upon  her.  "  You  mean 
Miss  Vincent  I"  she  exclaimed. 

He  nodded. 

The  young  girl  clapped  her  hands  and  gave  vent 
to  an  exultant  yell  not  exactly  ladylike,  but  so  spon- 
taneous and  genuine  that  Roy,  worried  as  he  was, 
could  not  help  smiling. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad,  Roy!  So  you  really  like 
Eunice?" 

Her  big  brother  patted  her  head  affectionately. 


THE   GAME  99 

"  Yes,  dear,  and  what's  more  I  mean  to  marry  her. 
She's  running  away  simply  because  she's  afraid  of 
them  all.  But  I'm  going  to  follow  her,  and  I'll  make 
her  my  wife  or  I'm  a  duffer." 

"  Oh,  how  perfectly  lovely  1 "  cried  Grace  enthusi- 
astically. "  Then  Eunice  and  I  will  really  be  sisters. 
But  Lucy  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Lucy  ?  "  he  echoed.  "  Oh,  she  won't  miss  me,  so 
long  as  she  has  Violet." 

"  Do  mother  and  father  know  ?  "  asked  Grace. 

"  Mother  does  and  I  shall  speak  to  father  to- 
morrow morning.  I  don't  want  to  worry  him  to- 
night." 

Grace  put  up  her  face  to  be  kissed. 

"  I'm  so  happy,  Roy  dear,"  she  said.  "  I  always 
disliked  Lucy.  I  was  heartbroken  at  the  thought  that 
one  day  she  would  be  mistress  here.  You  are  far 
too  good  for  such  a  girl  as  that.  Eunice  will  make 
you  a  good  wife  even  if  she  is  poor.  Anyhow,"  she 
added  naively,  "  I  don't  see  why  a  man  wants  money 
with  his  wife.  Surely  you  can  make  enough  for 
both." 

Roy  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"  I'll  make  enough  for  both,  sis,  never  fear.  I 
feel  more  of  a  man  already  for  having  emancipated 
myself  from  that  bargain-counter  match.  If  I  can 
prevail  upon  Eunice  to  marry  me,  I'll  be  the  happiest 
man  in  the  whole  world." 


I00  THE   END    OF 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  forenoon  of  the  following  day  Eunice  de- 
voted to   packing  her  things   prior   to   her 
departure  from  Alton  Court.    At  the  express 
wish  of  Mrs.  Marshall  and  the  earnest  and  tearful 
entreaties  of  Grace,  she  had  consented  to  stay  for 
an  early  luncheon,  when  she  could  catch  the  1.30  train 
at  Dedham.    Larry  was  to  take  her  to  the  station  in 
the  automobile  and  Grace  had  obtained  permission 
to  see  her  governess  off. 

Mrs.  Marshall  had  every  reason  to  treat  the  girl 
kindly.  During  her  stay  at  Alton  Court  Eunice  had 
performed  her  duties  conscientiously  and  well.  There 
were  no  grounds  for  complaint.  Grace  had  never 
been  in  better  spirits  nor  shown  greater  progress  in 
her  studies.  From  almost  every  point  of  view  Miss 
Vincent  was  a  most  desirable  young  person.  The 
only  reproach  that  could  be  brought  against  her  was 
that  she  had  proved  too  attractive  to  a  young 
man  whom  nobody,  least  of  all  his  mother,  had 
dreamed  was  susceptible  to  the  subtle  charms  of  the 
fair  sex.  This  love  affair  was,  indeed,  most  unfor- 
tunate. It  would  be  disastrous  if  it  proved  serious. 
But  once  the  girl  was  out  of  sight  it  was  probable 


THE    GAME  1 01 

that  Roy  would  forget  her.  It  was  human  nature. 
Of  course,  he  was  very  determined  now  and  talked 
recklessly  of  the  things  he  would  do  if  he  did  not 
get  his  way,  but  all  young  men  in  love  were  equally 
rash  and  impulsive.  Cooler  reflection  would  convince 
him  of  the  folly  of  it  and  then  the  relations  with  the 
Merricks  would  be  resumed  and  everything  go  on 
nicely  as  before.  That,  thought  his  mother,  was  cer- 
tainly a  solution  devoutly  to  be  wished  for.  As  it 
was  now,  everything  was  at  sixes  and  sevens.  The 
situation  was  awkward  for  everybody.  Both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Merrick  had  already  shown  irritation  at  Roy's 
indifference  toward  their  daughter,  and  had  hinted 
that  they  would  withdraw  altogether  unless  the  en- 
gagement were  formally  announced  without  further 
delay.  So  Mrs.  Marshall  comforted  herself.  She 
really  felt  a  sense  of  obligation  to  Eunice  for  having 
voluntarily  resigned  and  thus  spared  her  the  onerous 
necessity  of  discharging  her. 

But  it  was  with  a  heavy  heart  that,  in  the  privacy 
of  her  own  room,  Eunice  began  to  make  preparations 
for  departure.  Alton  Court  had  been  her  home  for 
the  last  twelve  months;  in  fact  it  was  the  only  place 
she  had  known  since  her  mother  died  that  seemed  like 
home.  In  front  of  Mrs.  Marshall  and  even  before 
Grace,  she  had  managed  to  appear  proudly  indifferent 
to  the  circumstances  which  were  driving  her  friend- 
less and  practically  penniless  back  into  the  heartless, 


102  THE  END   OF 

unsympathetic  world.  But  now,  when  there  was  no 
one  to  see,  the  girl's  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  self-pity 
as  she  realized  how  utterly  alone  she  was,  how  wide 
the  world,  and  of  what  little  consequence  to  anybody 
her  own  troubles  were.  She  had  practically  no  re- 
lations to  go  to.  A  sister  of  her  mother's  lived  some- 
where in  San  Francisco,  but  they  had  not  corre- 
sponded for  years,  while  her  father's  family  she  had 
never  known.  She  must  again  live  among  strangers, 
as  she  had  the  year  immediately  following  her  mo- 
ther's death,  cheaply  in  some  second-hand  boarding- 
house,  amid  sordid,  commonplace  surroundings.  She 
had  saved  a  few  hundred  dollars,  but  that  would 
barely  last  her  until«she  secured  another  position.  She 
thought  she  could  get  back  her  old  place  as  assistant 
teacher  at  the  Misses  Pell's  Select  Academy  for 
Young  Ladies  on  Commonwealth  Avenue,  Boston,  but 
she  was  not  sure.  It  was  a  dismal  outlook  at  best.  It 
seemed  like  some  sort  of  punishment  because  she  had 
been  so  happy  all  these  months  at  Alton  Court.  Yes, 
she  had  no  alternative  but  to  go.  Her  self-respect,  his 
future  happiness,  demanded  it. 

Then  she  thought  of  Roy.  Would  he  really  care? 
Wouldn't  he  forget  her  directly  she  was  gone?  The 
first  day  she  had  seen  him — the  day  of  the  upset  on 
the  lake — she  had  not  noticed  him  particularly.  She 
felt  grateful  to  him  for  having  extricated  Grace  and 
herself  from  their  predicament,  and  she  had  admired 


THE   GAME  103 

his  strength  and  skill  in  the  water,  but  that  was  the 
extent  of  her  interest.  No  idea  of  thinking  of  him 
in  any  other  way  ever  crossed  her  mind.  Like  many 
girls  who  are  engrossed  in  study,  and  taken  up  with 
the  more  serious  aspects  of  life,  Eunice  had  given 
little  attention  to  the  opposite  sex.  She  was  not  vain, 
so  she  never  dressed  to  attract  men;  she  was  not  a 
coquette,  so  she  never  flirted  with  them.  She  liked 
the  society  and  companionship  of  men  not  because  they 
were  of  the  opposite  sex,  but  because  their  outlook 
on  life  was  different  from  that  of  the  feminine  mind — 
broader,  more  vigorous.  She  had  paid  no  attention  to 
Roy  until  that  afternoon  he  passed  her  in  the  park, 
and  then  she  felt  it  was  her  duty  to  thank  him  for 
the  service  he  had  rendered  and  which,  until  then,  she 
had  been  unable  to  do.  When  he  had  stayed  and 
talked  with  her  she  was  impressed  by  his  sound,  com- 
mon-sense views,  his  fund  of  information  on  almost 
every  topic,  his  frank  manliness.  And  as  they  got 
better  acquainted  and  he  told  her  of  his  hopes  and 
plans,  she  found  he  was  a  man  of  strong  character 
and  lovable  disposition.  It  was  his  seriousness,  per- 
haps, that  appealed  to  her  more  than  anything  else. 
He  said  nothing  about  the  marriage  that  had  been 
prepared  for  him,  but  she  was  not  long  in  discovering 
that  it  was  distasteful  to  him,  and  secretly  she  was 
glad,  for  it  would  have  degraded  him  in  her  eyes  had 
he  accepted  it  without  protest.  He  spoke  well  and 


104  THE   END    OF 

with  a  peculiar  charm,  and  soon  she  found  herself 
deriving  pleasure  from  these  chats  under  the  trees. 
Almost  imperceptibly  he  brought  a  new  note  into 
her  life,  a  novel  exquisite  sensation  she  had  never 
known,  and  it  surprised  her  to  find  how  eagerly  each 
day  she  anticipated  hearing  his  step  on  the  gravel 
walk.  Such  mutual  interest  in  two  healthy  young 
persons  of  the  opposite  sex  could  lead  only  in 
one  direction.  They  would  have  been  les& 
than  human  had  they  not  fallen  in  love.  Yet, 
strange  to  say,  Eunice  did  not  recognize  as 
love  the  strange,  delightful  feeling  she  expe- 
rienced. It  took  her  by  surprise  because  she  was 
wholly  unprepared,  and  now  that  it  slowly  dawned 
upon  her  that  this  man  had  come  into  her  life,  that 
she  loved  him,  that  unwittingly  she  had  brought  upon 
herself  a  new  misery,  she  was  overwhelmed  with  a 
sense  of  new  misfortune.  That  she  could  ever  be  his 
wife  was,  to  her  mind,  out  of  the  question.  For  a 
brief  moment  her  heart  had  leaped  tumultuously  as 
she  saw  herself  mistress  of  Alton  Court,  and  then  the 
mirage  quickly  faded  away,  as  she  realized  the  im- 
possibility of  such  a  dream.  That  Roy  would  propose 
marriage  to  her  was,  she  thought,  inevitable.  She 
guessed  that  he  loved  her,  but  what  was  the  use? 
Even  if  she  felt  sure  that  she  loved  him,  she  would 
still  refuse  to  listen  to  him.  She  would  banish  from 
her  heart  the  image  of  his  face  and  from  her  ears  the 


THE    GAME  105 

sound  of  his  voice,  for  she  was  convinced  only  unhap- 
piness  could  come  of  it.  His  success  depended  upon 
his  marrying  according  to  his  father's  wishes.  If  he 
disobeyed  and  married  her  he  would  lose  everything. 
He  might  not  mind  now,  but  later,  when  difficulties 
of  money  began,  he  would  blame  her,  the  penniless 
woman  he  had  married.  No,  the  risk  was  too  great. 
In  her  heart  she  felt  she  could  do  more  to  build 
Roy's  fortune  than  Miss  Merrick  could  do  with  all 
her  money,  but  there  was  the  possibility  of  failure, 
and  she  shrunk  from  the  responsibility.  She  was  de- 
termined that  no  one  should  ever  reproach  her  with 
having  come  between  him  and  his  future.  And  now 
she  knew  from  his  own  lips  that  he  loved  her.  Amid 
the  gathering  purple  shadows  of  the  music-room  the 
evening  before  he  had  told  her  so.  He  had  asked 
her  to  be  his  wife !  Ah,  it  was  sweet,  if  only  for  a 
fleeting  second,  to  know  she  was  not  entirely  deserted 
and  neglected,  that  there  was  one  at  least  to  whom 
she  was  all  the  world.  What  a  strange  thrill  had  run 
through  her  when  for  that  brief  moment  he  had 
clasped  her  to  his  breast!  How  exquisite  it  was  to 
be  there,  if  only  for  an  instant,  in  that  ardent  embrace. 
Sheltered  in  those  strong  arms  she  need  worry  no 
longer,  the  lonely,  desolate  world  would  have  no  more 
terrors  for  her,  her  life  thenceforth  would  be  ideally 
happy.  When  he  pleaded  with  her,  and  she  realized 
what  she  was  refusing,  she  felt  a  sensation  she  had 


106  THE   END   OF 

never  known  before,  a  feeling  that  she  must  throw 
herself  in  his  arms  and  weep.  Was  that  love?  Yes, 
she  did  care  for  him,  she  did  love  him — she  did  not 
dare  think  how  much.  But  she  must  go  away  and 
forget.  She  was  determined  that  neither  he  nor  any- 
one should  ever  reproach  her  with  having  spoiled  his 
career. 

But  she  suffered.  She  was  doing  what  she  thought 
was  right  and  her  heart  was  broken  in  the  effort.  Her 
face  was  pale  and  her  eyes  were  rimmed  with  more 
than  a  suspicion  of  redness  by  the  time  she  had  fin- 
ished packing.  She  was  putting  the  final  touches  to 
her  preparations  when  there  came  a  timid  knock  at 
the  door. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  cried  Grace,  putting  her  head  in. 
It  was  the  same  mischievous,  roguish  face,  but  her 
manner  lacked  its  usual  buoyancy  and  her  sunny  smile 
was  missing. 

Eunice  held  out  her  hand  and  the  young  girl  sprang 
forward  and  threw  her  arms  around  her  teacher's 
neck. 

"  Oh,  Eunice,  must  you  really  go?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  really."  Pointing  to  her  piled-up 
trunks,  she  added  with  a  forced  smile :  "  You  see, 
I'm  quite  ready." 

"  We  shall  miss  you  dreadfully,"  said  Grace  dis- 
consolately. 

"We?"  echoed  Eunice.    "Who's  we?" 


THE   GAME  107 

"  Why,  I,  of  course,  and — Roy.  You  remember 
what  I  told  you  in  the  park.  It  is  true.  Roy  doesn't 
want  to  marry  Miss  Merrick.  It  is  you  he  loves.  Oh, 
please,  Eunice,  tell  him  you  will !  It  would  make  him 
so  happy — and  me  too." 

She  pleaded  with  such  childish  naivete  that  Eunice 
could  not  help  smiling,  heavy-hearted  as  she  was. 
But  she  shook  her  head. 

"  No,  dear,  it  is  impossible.  You  do  not  understand. 
Your  brother  must  marry  Miss  Merrick.  There  are 
reasons  that  compel  him.  Even  if  there  were  not,  it 
would  make  no  difference.  I  must  go  all  the  same." 

Finding  it  was  useless  to  coax  further,  Grace  re- 
signed herself  to  the  inevitable,  only  exacting  a  prom- 
ise that  Eunice  would  write  her  a  long  letter  at  least 
every  other  day,  and  the  rest  of  the  morning  until 
luncheon  was  spent  in  each  other's  company.  Eunice 
stayed  in  her  own  room  by  design.  She  did  not  wish 
to  see  Roy  again  before  she  left.  She  knew  it  would 
only  unnerve  her,  and  make  her  departure  the  harder. 

Roy,  meantime,  was  bracing  himself  for  the  dreaded 
interview  with  his  father.  All  morning  he  had  roamed 
about  the  house  in  the  hope  of  seeing  Eunice,  but  she 
stayed  in  her  room.  He  did  not  even  know  the  precise 
hour  of  her  departure.  He  might  be  able  to  get  a 
few  words  with  her  before  she  left.  But  if  he  did 
not,  he  would  seek  her  out  in  Boston.  Never  in  his 
life  had  he  felt  so  determined  about  anything  as  about 


io8  THE   END    OF 

this.  There  was  a  tradition  in  the  family  that  once 
a  Marshall  set  his  mind  on  doing  a  thing  that  thing 
was  done  quickly,  and  Roy  felt  he  had  inherited  at 
least  that  quality  from  his  ancestors.  He  set  his  teeth 
and  swore  by  all  he  held  sacred  that  he  would  not 
rest  until  he  made  Eunice  his  wife.  The  Merrick 
millions,  the  drug  business,  everything  else  might  go 
hang.  One  woman's  gray  eyes,  one  woman's  sweet 
serious  smile  were  worth  to  him  more  than  all  the 
rest.  Nothing  could  make  him  waver  in  his  purpose. 
If  Eunice  would  have  him,  he  would  marry  her.  His 
father  would  storm  and  rave  and  probably  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  him.  Well,  what  of  it? 
Marshall  &  Co.  was  not  the  only  business  opportunity 
in  the  world.  He  would  shift  for  himself.  He  was 
no  better  than  other  men  who  had  to  make  their 
own  way  in  the  world.  It  would  be  all  the  more 
creditable  to  him  if  he  achieved  success  by  his  own 
efforts  and  without  having  a  position  ready  made 
for  him. 

It  was  nearly  noon  when  he  entered  the  library. 
Mr.  Marshall  was  going  through  the  morning's 
mail. 

"  Hello,  Roy,"  said  his  father  pleasantly,  "  sit  down. 
I'm  just  going  through  the  letters — reports  of  sales, 
new  orders — nothing  but  business.  I'm  getting  tired 
of  it.  I'll  be  glad  to  turn  it  over  to  you,  my  boy." 

Roy  made  no  reply.    He  was  getting  more  nervous 


THE    GAME  109 

every  minute.  Mr.  Marshall  noticed  there  was  some- 
thing unusual  in  his  manner,  for  he  added: 

"  What's  amiss  ?  You  seem  out  of  sorts.  Liver 
out  of  order?  " 

Thus  offered  a  loophole,  Roy  hesitated  no  longer. 
He  plunged  right  in. 

"  Father,"  he  stammered,  "  I  have  something  serious 
to  tell  you.  I " 

He  stopped  as  if  seeking  words.  Mr.  Marshall  laid 
down  on  the  table  the  letter  he  was  reading  and  looked 
anxiously  at  his  son. 

"  Something  serious  ?  "  he  echoed.  Then  with  some 
show  of  anxiety  he  added :  "  You  are  not  ill,  are 
you?" 

"  No — it's  nothing  of  that  sort,"  said  Roy. 
"But " 

Again  he  halted,  embarrassed,  intimidated  by  his 
father's  keen,  searching  scrutiny. 

"  Well,  boy,  out  with  it !  You  seem  tongue-tied," 
cried  Mr.  Marshall,  impatiently. 

Roy  advanced  nearer  the  desk  at  which  his  father 
was  sitting,  and,  his  face  pale,  his  voice  slightly  trem- 
bling, he  said: 

"  It's  simply  this,  sir.  I  cannot  marry  Lucy  Mer- 
rick.  It's  out  of  the  question.  This  thing  must  be 
understood  once  for  all." 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Marshall  sat  motionless,  as  if 
petrified,  staring  vacantly  at  his  son.  Astonishment 


i  io  THE   END   OF 

rendered  him  speechless.  Then,  bending  forward  and 
speaking  slowly  and  distinctly  as  if  anxious  to  em- 
phasize each  word,  he  asked: 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Have  you  suddenly  lost  your 
senses  ?  " 

"  No,"  cried  Roy  boldly.  "  I  have  found  my 
senses."  Now  that  the  ice  was  broken  he  was  rapidly 
regaining  his  courage.  "  I  cannot  marry  Lucy  Mer- 
rick,"  he  went  on,  "  for  I  don't  care  two  straws  for 
her.  Such  a  marriage  would  degrade  me,  and  could 
end  only  in  unhappiness." 

Mr.  Marshall  had  risen  from  his  seat  and  stood 
confronting  his  son.  His  hands  twitched,  his  eyes 
flashed  and  his  leonine  white  hair  seemed  to  bristle 
with  anger.  That  his  son  should  come  to  him  at  this 
late  hour  and  attempt  to  repudiate  an  agreement  prac- 
tically already  settled  seemed  to  him  preposterous. 

"  This  is  indeed  serious  news,"  he  said  with  a  forced 
laugh.  Then,  sternly,  he  demanded,  "  Do  you  realize 
how  serious  ?  " 

Roy's  face  was  white  and  determined.  He  realized 
that  this  was  the  crisis.  Either  his  father  would  have 
to  accept  the  new  situation  or  they  must  part.  He 
was  fighting  for  his  personal  freedom,  for  the  woman 
he  loved.  Mr.  Marshall,  for  the  first  time,  saw  in 
his  son's  attitude  that  he  was  prepared  to  defy  his 
authority. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Roy  quietly,  "  I  fully  appre- 


THE   GAME  in 

ciate  that  this  will  be  a  disappointment  to  you  and  I 
am  sorry.  But  I  had  not  given  the  matter  proper  con- 
sideration. I  cannot  jeopardize  my  future  happiness. 
I  cannot  degrade  myself — even  to  save  Marshal) 
&  Company." 

His  father  made  a  move  forward,  his  hand  half 
raised,  then  stopped.  His  face  grew  red  and  apo- 
plectic, the  big  blue  veins  stood  out  like  cords  on  his 
brown  neck,  the  nervous  twitching  of  his  lips  indicated 
the  effort  he  was  making  to  restrain  himself.  Roy 
slipped  back,  expecting  some  explosion  of  wrath  that 
would  end  in  violence. 

"  May  I  ask,"  cried  Mr.  Marshall  when  he  had 
somewhat  recovered  his  sang-froid,  "  what  has  oc- 
curred to  inspire  this  sudden  objection  to  Lucy?  We 
were  talking  of  her  only  yesterday  and  you  said 
nothing." 

"  I  was  about  to  tell  you,  only  something  inter- 
rupted. Besides  I  did  not  know  that " 

He  left  the  sentence  uncompleted. 

"You  did  not  know  what?"  demanded  Mr.  Mar- 
shall. 

Roy  did  not  reply.  Should  he  confess  that  he  loved 
another  girl  and  that  it  was  the  fear  that  he  might 
lose  her  which  made  him  speak  out?  But  his  father 
spared  him  the  trouble.  Putting  two  and  two  together 
he  had  arrived  at  the  truth. 

"  So  that's  it,"  he  exclaimed.    "  You  did  not  know 


H2  THE    END    OF 

Miss  Vincent  was  going.  So  there  were  grounds  for 
my  suspicions,  after  all!  There  has  been  some  love- 
making  with  the  governess."  His  rising  anger  getting 
the  better  of  him,  he  brought  his  fist  down  on  his  desk 
and  cried  angrily :  "  It's  a  good  thing  she's  going  to- 
day, or  I'd  have  her  put  out." 

Roy  flushed  and  half  started  forward,  ready  to 
resent  this  insult  to  the  woman  he  loved. 

"  Please  don't  speak  of  Miss  Vincent  in  that  way, 
father.  I  expect  to  make  her  my  wife !  " 

"  Your  wife ! "  shouted  Mr.  Marshall,  his  voice 
shaking  with  rage,  his  eyes  glowing  like  living  coals. 
"  Do  you  dare  to  come  here  and  tell  me  that  you 
would  deliberately  sacrifice  my  interests  and  ruin  your 
own  future  by  marrying  a  penniless  girl?" 

"  I  cannot  agree  with  you,  sir,"  answered  Roy 
firmly.  "  With  Miss  Vincent  for  a  wife  my  future 
would  be  made,  not  ruined." 

Mr.  Marshall  shrugged  his  shoulders  and,  turning 
his  back  on  his  son,  paced  the  room  like  an  angry  lion. 
Roy  stood  silent,  wondering  what  would  happen  next. 
Suddenly  his  father  gave  a  quick  half  turn  and  laid 
his  hand  on  his  son's  shoulder. 

"  Roy,"  he  said  calmly,  "  I  took  you  to  be  intelligent, 
shrewd,  free  from  the  follies  that  spoil  most  young 
men.  I  expected  you  would  be  a  comfort  to  me  in  my 
old  age.  I  was  mistaken." 

The  old  gentlem**»  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes 


THE    GAME  113 

as  if  to  wipe  away  a  tear.    Roy  was  quick  to  respond 
to  the  first  sign  of  paternal  sympathy. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  to  displease  you  in 
this  matter.  But  put  yourself  in  my  place.  You 
would  not  have  me  go  into  this  marriage  with  a  lie 
on  my  lips — you  would  not  have  your  son  a  per- 


jurer 


Mr.  Marshall  had  resumed  his  pacing  of  the  room, 
a  habit  he  had  when  thinking  hard.  When  he  turned 
to  Roy  again  there  was  no  sign  of  weakness  or  ten- 
derness in  his  face.  It  was  set  and  stern. 

"  May  I  ask,"  he  said  coldly,  "  what  you  suggest — 
what  your  plan  is  ?  " 

Unprepared  for  this  apparently  conciliatory  atti- 
tude, Roy  was  puzzled  what  to  say.  He  had  no 
definite  plan.  The  future  was  vague  and  uncertain. 
Finally  he  said: 

"  I  have  made  no  plans,  sir.  I  hope  to  make  Miss 
Vincent  my  wife  and,  with  your  consent,  I  should  still 
wish  to  enter  Marshall  &  Company  as  arranged." 

His  father  resumed  his  seat  at  the  desk,  i  His 
agitation  of  manner  had  entirely  disappeared.  He 
was  now  as  cool  and  decisive  as  an  attorney  cross- 
examining  a  witness  on  the  stand. 

"  Roy,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  believe  you  to  be  so  utterly 
stupid  as  to  expect  you  can  enter  the  business  as 
my  successor  without  bringing  capital  with  you.  I 
explained  the  situation  to  you.  It  has  not  changed 


1 14  THE   END    OF 

since.  If  you  are  decided  on  committing  moral  sui- 
cide I  can't  stop  you.  You  are  of  age;  I  have  no 
legal  authority  over  you.  As  your  father  I  can  only 
advise  you.  That  advice  you  refuse  to  listen  to; 
therefore  I  am  finished  with  you.  You  can  do  as  you 
like.  Go  where  you  like.  I  will  wait  till  your  brother 
is  old  enough.  I  think  he  will  have  more  sense." 

He  stopped  talking  and  a  suspicious  moisture  about 
his  eyes  suggested  that  he  was  not  as  unconcerned  in- 
wardly as  he  appeared  outwardly.  Rising  suddenly 
from  the  desk,  he  again  advanced  toward  Roy. 

"  Don't  fight  your  old  father,  Roy ;  think  well  be- 
fore you  do  something  you'll  regret  all  your  life. 
Boy,"  he  went  on  solemnly,  "  we  Marshalls  come  of 
an  obstinate  race.  When  we  want  anything  we  get 
it.  For  the  last  five  years  of  my  life  I  have  planned 
and  schemed  to  have  you  succeed  me  as  head  of  the 
firm.  It  has  been  the  ambition  of  my  old  age  to  see 
you  comfortably  married,  with  money  enough  to  put 
the  business  on  its  feet  again  and  to  keep  the  place 
up  as  we  have  been  accustomed  to  do.  You  approved 
of  the  girl  I  found  for  you,  you  encouraged  me  to 
proceed  with  the  arrangement.  If  you  go  back  on 
your  word  you  dishonor  your  father,  and  that  I  should 
never  forgive.  I  hold  you  to  your  word.  You'll  soon 
forget  this  Miss  Vincent.  Be  sensible  and  marry 
Lucy.  It  is  for  your  happiness  that  I  am  plead- 
ing." 


THE    GAME  115 

Roy  shook  his  head  as  he  replied  firmly: 

"  Father,  what  you  say  about  the  men  of  our  family 
getting  what  they  want  fits  me  as  well  as  it  does  you. 
I  want  to  marry  Miss  Vincent  and  I  propose  doing  so. 
Let  me  marry  the  girl  I  love  and  I'll  go  into  the  bus- 
iness without  money,  in  a  subordinate  position  if  you 
will,  and  climb  my  way  up  by  sheer  hard  work.  But 
I  am  determined  to  marry  the  girl  I  love.  It  breaks 
my  heart  to  have  to  disregard  your  wishes  in  this 
matter,  but  my  whole  future  is  at  stake.  I  am  entitled 
to  my  share  of  life's  happiness." 

He  looked  imploringly  at  his  father,  but  the  latter 
averted  his  face,  while  his  voice  was  unbending  and 
unpitying. 

"  Roy,"  he  said  coldly,  "  we  might  argue  this  matter 
all  day.  I  am  a  man  of  few  words.  You  know  my 
wishes;  I  expect  you  to  comply  with  them.  I  insist 
— mind  you,  I  insist  that  you  give  up  all  thought  of 
this  girl  and  let  things  go  on  as  they  were  before. 
When  a  son  is  so  lacking  in  intelligence  and  common 
sense  as  to  rush  blindly  to  destruction  it  becomes  a 
parent's  duty  to  extend  his  arm  to  prevent  him  dash- 
ing over  the  precipice.  Now  hear  me  well,  Roy.  I 
forbid  you  absolutely  to  have  anything  further  to  do 
with  this  Miss  Vincent." 

"  And  if  I  refuse  ?  "  demanded  Roy  hotly,  defiantly. 

"  If  you  refuse,"  echoed  his  father  sternly — "  if  you 
wilfully  disobey  me,  then  I  am  done  with  you  forever ! 


n6  THE   END   OF 

You  can  go  where  you  like,  do  what  you  like!  You 
will  be  no  son  of  mine.  I  will  remain  in  harness  a  few 
years  longer  until  your  brother  can  take  the  place 
I  had  planned  to  give  you.  Choose — stay  or  go !  " 

The  young  man  wavered  for  a  moment,  but  only 
for  a  moment.  Turning  to  his  father,  he  said  firmly: 

"  So  be  it,  father.  I  choose — to  go !  I  should  no 
longer  respect  myself — you  could  not  respect  me — if 
I  did  anything  else.  I  will  let  Ned  take  my  place.  I 
will  go  out  into  the  world  and  see  what  I  can  do  for 
myself." 

"  Is  that  final,  Roy?"  demanded  his  father. 

"  Yes — final.  I  shall  go  at  once ;  I  shall  get  what  I 
can,  do  what  I  can — anything  so  long  as  it  is  re- 
spectable. And  I  shall  make  Eunice  Vincent  my 
wife." 

Livid  with  rage,  Mr.  Marshall  stamped  his  foot 
and  pointed  to  the  door,  almost  shouting: 

"  I  tried  to  convince  you  of  your  mistake  by  arous- 
ing your  filial  affection;  I  sought  to  save  you  from 
your  folly  by  appealing  to  your  common  sense.  But 
you  are  as  stubborn  and  thick-headed  as  an  army 
mule.  Go  your  own  way !  Go  your  own  way !  You'll 
find  it's  not  so  easy  as  you  imagine.  There's  the 
door.  Go!" 

Roy  turned  to  go.  At  any  other  time  he  would  have 
felt  bad ;  he  might  have  rushed  back  and  begged  for- 
giveness. But  his  father  had  insulted  the  woman  he 


THE   GAME  117 

loved.  From  that  moment  his  heart  was  turned  to 
stone.  Henceforth  his  home  was  elsewhere. 

As  he  left  the  library  he  heard  the  quick  pugh! 
pugh !  of  the  automobile  on  the  path  outside  the  house. 
At  that  moment  his  mother  entered  from  the  terrace. 

"Who  was  that?"  he  asked. 

"  Miss  Vincent  has  just  gone,"  she  replied  calmly. 

"  Oh,"  said  Roy  with  apparent  unconcern.  Then 
he  added  laconically :  "  I'm  going  too." 


Ii8  THE   END    OF 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  Misses  Pell's  Academy  for  Young  Ladies 
on  Commonwealth  Avenue  was  considered 
one  of  the  most  exclusive  educational  insti- 
tutions in  Boston.  Miss  Martha  and  Miss  Sarah  Pell, 
who  had  conducted  the  school  for  many  years — the 
oldest  inhabitant  could  not  remember  exactly  how 
many — were  two  elderly  spinsters  whose  personal  ap- 
pearance was  almost  grotesquely  typical  of  the  tra- 
ditional "  schoolmarm."  The  sisters  were  both  tall 
and  gaunt,  each  wore  spectacles,  corkscrew  Curls  and 
little  lace  caps.  Earlier  in  life — possibly  half  a  cen- 
tury earlier — they  had  both  been  disappointed  in 
love  affairs,  and  while  this  amatory  contretemps  had 
led  them  to  take  a  jaundiced  view  of  life  in  general 
and  of  the  male  sex  in  particular,  it  had  affected  their 
respective  characters  differently.  It  had  made  Miss 
Martha  a  sour  virago.  Never  very  amiably  disposed 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  under  the 
sting  of  her  fancied  wrong  she  had  become  a  veritable 
termagant.  She  bullied  the  teachers  and  terrorized 
the  pupils — even  the  servants  and  the  tradespeople 
were  afraid  of  her.  Nearly  six  feet  tall,  with  a  deep 
masculine  voice  of  a  peculiarly  harsh  and  rasping 


THE   GAME  119 

quality,  her  appearance  was  decidedly  forbidding.  If 
she  addressed  anyone  at  all,  it  usually  was  to  scold, 
and  when  she  passed  through  the  class-room,  like  a 
frigate  under  full  sail,  the  pupils  scurried  like  fright- 
ened rabbits  out  of  her  path.  During  school  hours 
she  was  irritable  and  morose,  dictatorial  and  tyran- 
nical, and  when  her  temper  was  ruffled,  as  happened 
frequently,  she  boxed  vigorously  every  ear  within 
reach,  regardless  whether  their  owner  deserved  pun- 
ishment or  not.  The  only  occasions  on  which  she 
had  been  known  to  smile  was  when  a  parent  called 
to  pay  in  advance  for  the  term.  Miss  Sarah,  naturally 
milder  in  disposition,  was  less  aggressive,  and  conse- 
quently less  unpopular.  Although  also  smarting  from 
the  recollection  of  man's  inconstancy,  she  had  taken 
her  disappointment  in  a  more  Christian  spirit,  accept- 
ing her  maidenly  solitude  with  philosophical  resigna- 
tion. She  was  stiff  and  prim  and  stood  herself  in 
no  little  awe  of  her  obstreperous  sister,  but  in  speech 
and  manner  she  was  more  gentle  and  approachable. 
That  is  why  she  was  intrusted  with  direct  supervision 
of  the  classes,  while  Miss  Martha  busied  herself  al- 
most exclusively  with  the  business  management  and 
housekeeping. 

This  was  where  Eunice  had  gone  after  leaving 
Alton  Court.  As  she  anticipated,  she  had  no  difficulty 
in  getting  her  old  position  back.  The  Misses  Pell 
were,  in  fact,  glad  to  have  her  return.  She  was 


120  THE    END    OF 

competent,  whereas  her  successor  had  proved  unsat- 
isfactory; so,  after  a  few  days  spent  in  a  boarding- 
house,  Eunice  moved  with  all  her  effects  to  Com- 
monwealth Avenue.  It  was  now  September.  She 
could  count  on  staying  at  the  Academy  until  the  fol- 
lowing July,  which  would  give  her  ample  time  to 
look  around  for  something  more  congenial  and  re- 
munerative. 

But  what  a  change  from  Alton  Court,  with  its  spa- 
cious rooms,  its  beautiful  park,  its  pervading  atmos- 
phere of  good  breeding !  Eunice  sighed  as  she  viewed 
her  new  surroundings,  dingy  and  commonplace,  and 
thought  of  the  happy  days  that  were  gone,  perhaps 
forever.  She  had  a  small  stuffy  hall  bedroom  on 
the  servants'  floor,  with  access  to  the  solitary  bath- 
room only  on  giving  notice  the  day  before.  If  at 
night  she  was  unable  to  sleep,  and  attempted  to  read 
or  sew  in  her  room,  she  was  reminded  the  next  morn- 
ing by  the  grim  Miss  Martha  that  the  gas  bills  were 
simply  outrageous,  and  lights  must  be  out  at  ten 
o'clock.  There  were  two  other  teachers  beside  her- 
self— one  a  dark-eyed  Frenchwoman,  the  other  a 
blonde  fraulein.  The  trio  took  their  frugal  meals  to- 
gether. The  food  was  of  the  poorest  quality.  Miss 
Martha  grudged  everything  they  ate,  and  even  the 
time  they  spent  at  the  table.  They  were  often  hungry, 
but  they  put  up  with  hardships  and  discomforts  un- 
complainingly, unable  to  remedy  their  condition,  prac- 


> 
I 
THE    GAME  in 

tically  at  the  mercy  of  two  unsympathetic  women  bent 
on  getting  out  of  them  all  the  work  possible  in  return 
for  their  meagre  wage.  Sisters  in  misery,  they  tried 
to  forget  the  humiliations  and  petty  annoyances  to 
which  they  were  daily  subjected  by  telling  each  other 
about  better  times  they  had  known.  Eunice  had  not 
much  to  relate,  but  mademoiselle  spoke  with  bated 
breath  of  her  dear  Paris,  which  she  hoped  to  see  once 
more  before  she  died,  while  the  fraulein  descanted 
in  no  less  affectionate  terms  of  her  native  Munich. 

To  Eunice  usually  fell  the  duty  of  acting  as  chap- 
eron during  the  morning  and  afternoon  promenade 
when  {he  dear  girl  pupils  walked  out  demurely,  eyes 
cast  down,  two  and  two,  as  the  animals  entered  the 
ark.  The  girls  liked  Eunice  as  much  as  they  detested 
Miss  Martha,  and  there  was  general  consternation  in 
the  dovecote  on  those  occasions  when  the  latter  de- 
cided that  Eunice  should  stay  at  home  and  she  would 
go  in  her  stead.  Then  the  pupils  had  to  look  to  their 
behavior.  Not  a  thing  escaped  Miss  Martha's  eagle 
eye  during  the  march.  Woe  to  the  bold  maiden  whom 
she  caught  casting  a  furtive  glance  at  some  forward 
young  man!  The  punishment  on  their  return  was 
swift  and  awful. 

Three  weeks  had  passed  since  Eunice  had  left  Alton 
Court.  She  had  heard  nothing  of  Roy  and  had  re- 
ceived only  one  letter  from  Grace,  who  did  not  mention 
her  brother.  She  was  glad  he  did  not  come  to  her  as 


122  THE   END   OF 

he  said  he  would.  It  would  only  make  her  wretched 
to  see  him  again.  No  doubt  after  her  departure  he 
had  seen  matters  in  a  new  light — as  his  father  wished 
him  to  see  them.  Yet,  at  heart,  she  was  surprised  and 
a  little  chagrined  at  his  long  silence.  It  seemed  hardly 
possible  that  he  could  have  banished  her  so  soon  from 
his  mind,  even  if  he  had  given  up  all  other  hopes 
of  her. 

One  afternoon  while  she  was  initiating  a  particu- 
larly stupid  set  of  girls  into  the  mysteries  of  vulgar 
fractions,  Miss  Martha  bounced  into  the  class-room, 
looking  very  much  flustered.  The  girls,  scenting  a 
storm,  nudged  each  other  and  glued  their  eyes  to  their 
arithmetic  books.  Miss  Martha,  in  a  deep  bass  voice, 
summoned  Eunice  to  her  desk. 

"  Miss  Vincent,"  she  said  icily,  "  a  person  is  down- 
stairs waiting  to  see  you.  You  can  go  and  see  him 
this  time,  but  I  want  one  thing  thoroughly  understood 
if  you  wish  to  remain  in  this  institution.  There  must 
be  no  gentlemen  callers — young  or  o^v  This  person 
is  elderly,  so  I  suppose  it's  all  right;  but,  understand 
me,  I  won't  have  gentlemen  callers  of  any  age — is 
that  clear?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Martha,  quite." 

For  a  moment  Eunice's  heart  had  given  a  wild  leap. 
She  thought  it  was  Roy  who  had  come  after  all.  But 
when  she  heard  the  word  "  elderly "  her  hopes  fell. 
Who  could  it  be? 


THE  GAME  123 

She  hurried  downstairs,  and  in  the  dimly  lighted  re- 
ception-room was  an  elderly  gentleman  with  white 
hair.  His  back  was  turned  and  for  a  moment  she  did 
not  recognize  him.  He  turned  on  hearing  her  step. 
It  was  Mr.  Marshall,  Senior.  She  was  so  surprised 
that  she  could  articulate  nothing.  The  words  stuck 
in  her  throat.  At  first  she  was  alarmed,  fearing  some- 
thing had  happened.  What,  she  wondered,  could  have 
brought  Mr.  Marshall  to  her?  He  advanced  towards 
her. 

"  You  little  expected  to  see  me,  Miss  Vincent ! " 
he  began. 

"  No,"  stammered  Eunice,  "  I  confess  I'm  surprised. 
I  hope  nothing  is  the  matter." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  No,  nothing  is  the  matter — that  is,"  he  stammered, 
"nothing  we  can't  remedy.  I  came  to  see  you  on 
a  little  matter  of  business." 

Eunice  waved  him  to  a  seat  and,  taking  a  chair  op- 
posite him,  waited  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

"  Miss  Vincent,"  he  said,  "  I  am  a  blunt  business 
man,  accustomed  to  put  things  bluntly,  as  you  may 
have  noticed  during  the  time  you  were  at  Alton  Court. 
I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  plain  question.  I  want  you 
to  answer  me  frankly." 

Eunice  surmised  what  was  coming,  but  was  hardly 
prepared  for  the  form  it  took.  She  replied  with  quiet 
dignity: 


124  THE   END   OF 

"  I  will  answer  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  Mr.  Mar- 
shall." 

"Will  you  tell  me  the  truth?"  demanded  the  old 
gentleman,  looking  at  her  dubiously. 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  lie !  "  she  retorted. 

He  continued  looking  at  her  in  silence,  taking  in 
every  detail  of  her  face,  form  and  dress,  as  if  now  he 
saw  for  the  first  time  this  young  woman  who  had 
robbed  him  of  a  son. 

"  Where  is  Roy  ?  "  he  demanded  of  her  abruptly. 

"  Your  son !  "  echoed  Eunice,  startled.  Quickly  re- 
covering her  self-possession,  she  asked :  "  Isn't  he  at 
Alton  Court  ?  How  should  I  know  his  whereabouts  ?  " 

"  No,  he  left  Alton  Court  the  same  day  you  did. 
He  told  me  he  was  determined  to  marry  you.  That's 
the  last  we've  seen  of  him.  I  got  your  address  from 
Grace  and  came  here,  thinking,  of  course,  that  you'd 
know.  You  say  he  hasn't  been  here  ?  "  he  said  incred- 
ulously. 

"  No,  he  has  not  been  here,"  answered  Eunice ;  "  I 
have  not  seen  your  son  since  the  day  I  left  your  home." 

Her  heart  was  beating  so  furiously  that  she  was 
afraid  the  old  gentleman  would  see  it.  Roy  had  told 
them  he  loved  her — he  had  done  what  he  had  said 
he'd  do — broken  with  his  father  and  everything  for 
her  sake! 

Mr.  Marshall  eyed  the  girl  keenly.    Was  she  hiding 


THE    GAME  125 

something  from  him?  Was  it  possible  that  Roy  had 
let  three  weeks  go  by  without  seeking  her  out? 

"  Well !  "  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  if  he  hasn't  been 
here  already,  he's  likely  to  come  any  day.  I'm  glad 
I  got  here  before  him.  I  want  to  put  before  you  a 
plain,  straightforward  business  proposition." 

He  stopped  short  and  looked  at  her  as  if  doubtful 
of  his  ground.  She  listened  patiently,  not  compre- 
hending. Finally  he  blurted  out: 

"  My  son  has  made  an  ass  of  himself,  Miss  Vin- 
cent He  has  fallen  head  over  heels  in  love  with  you 
and " 

He  halted  in  confusion,  conscious  of  the  faux  pas 
he  had  made. 

"  Excuse  me — young  lady — I'm  an  old  man  and 
don't  pick  my  words.  I  mean  that  it  was  an  act  of 
criminal  folly  to  fall  in  love  with  you  when  his  real  in- 
terests were  elsewhejre.  I  had  planned  a  brilliant 
career  for  him.  With  the  money  and  influence  a  rich 
marriage  would  bring  him  he  might  have  been  gov- 
ernor of  Massachusetts.  He  has  chosen  to  throw  it 
away ;  he  has  run  wilfully  to  destruction ;  and  you,  in- 
directly, are  the  cause !  " 

He  paused,  hoping  she  would  say  something  in  self- 
justification,  but  she  merely  gazed  out  of  the  window 
as  if  what  he  were  saying  did  not  concern  her  in  the 
least.  He  went  on : 

"  But  there  is  still  hope.     You  say  you  have  not 


126  THE   END    OF 

seen  Roy.  I  believe  you.  But  he  will  come.  Of  that 
I  am  certain.  And  when  he  does  come  I  want  you  to 
help  me." 

He  fumbled  inside  his  breast  pocket  and  produced 
a  slip  of  white  paper. 

"  Here ! "  he  said,  "  this  is  for  you  if  you'll  help 
me." 

Mechanically  she  extended  her  hand  and  took  the 
paper.  She  looked  at  it  for  a  moment  and  a  deep 
flush  spread  over  her  face  and  neck.  It  was  a  check 
to  her  order  for  $1,000. 

"  What  is  this? "  she  asked. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  he  answered  quickly,  pleased  to 
see  she  took  it  so  sensibly.  "  I,  of  course,  appreciate 
your  position.  Roy,  no  doubt,  has  said  a  lot  of  things 
he  should  not  have  said  and  led  you  to  entertain  hopes 
that  can  never  be  realized.  Roy  must  marry  a  girl 
with  money.  I  realize  that  it  is  a  disappointment  to 
you,  but  when  one  has  youth  and — beauty,  one  soon 
forgets.  The  world  is  large.  There  are  plenty  of 
eligible  young  men  left.  Leave  us  Roy — both  for  his 
sake  and  for  ours.  Don't  take  our  son  from  us.  Re- 
fuse to  have  anything  to  do  with  him.  Go  away! 
If  you  leave  Boston  he  will  soon  tire  of  pursuing  you, 
and  gradually  he'll  forget  you.  With  this  $1,000  you 
can  go  to  some  other  city,  secure  a  position  in  some 
family  or  school,  and  you'll  always  have  a  nice  little 
capital  in  case  you  marry  or  fall  ill." 


"That  is  my  answer!"  she  exclaimed. 


Page  127 


THE    GAME  127 

He  ceased  speaking  and  waited  to  hear  what  she 
had  to  say. 

"  Have  you  quite  finished  ?  "  she  said  calmly. 

"Yes — what  is  your  answer?" 

Rising  from  her  seat  she  tore  the  check  to  pieces 
and  tossed  them  in  the  empty  grate. 

"  That  is  my  answer !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  You  refuse  ?  "  he  said,  also  rising. 

"Did  you  think,"  she  said  bitterly,  "that  I  am  a 
woman  to  be  bought?  Have  you  no  respect  for  any 
woman?  Have  I  deserved  to  be  treated  with  this 
contempt?"  ^ 

Mr.  Marshall  hastened  to  apologize;  approaching 
her,  he  said  soothingly: 

"  Really,  my  dear  young  lady,  I " 

But  she  brushed  past  him,  and,  her  bosom  heaving 
with  pent-up  excitement,  her  eyes  flashing  with  anger, 
she  lashed  him  with  her  scorn: 

"  You  measure  me  by  your  own  standard — the 
money  standard !  You  speak  as  if  there  were  no  such 
thing  as  a  human  heart,  no  such  thing  as  honesty  in 
man  or  virtue  in  woman.  Rich  marriage !  Influential 
position!  That's  all  that  concerns  you!  You  don't 
stop  to  consider  if  the  girl  is  likely  to  make  him  a 
good  wife.  Your  son's  happiness  is  nothing — your 
own  selfish  ends  everything.  You  are  ready  to  sacri- 
fice your  own  flesh  and  blood  on  the  altar  of  your 
own  interests!  All  that  you  have  said  to  me  I  have 


128  THE    END    OF 

said  myself  to  your  son.  Against  my  own  interests, 
in  violence  to  my  own  feelings — for  I  love  him,  do 
you  hear,  I  love  your  son! — I  told  him  I  would  not 
marry  him.  I  refused  to  come  between  him  and  the 
plans  you  had  made  for  him." 

"  You  said  that  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Marshall,  starting  for- 
ward. 

"  Yes — I  did  it  for  his  sake.  He  was  full  of  en- 
thusiasm, looking  forward  to  the  day  when  he  would 
enter  your  business.  I  knew  that  my  marrying  him 
would  make  that  impossible.  So  I  told  him  there 
could  never  be  anything  between  us.  The  next  day  I 
left  Alton  Court  and  I  have  not  seen  him  since." 

Mr.  Marshall's  eyes  beamed.  He  looked  with  ad- 
miration mingled  with  respect  at  this  frail  girl  who, 
by  sheer  force  of  character,  had  given  up  what,  after 
all,  would  have  secured  her  a  future  and  a  husband 
she  loved.  There  was  some  good  in  the  girl,  after  all, 
and  unconsciously  he  became  more  deferential  in  tone 
and  manner. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "  I  was  mistaken  in  you. 
I  see  now  I  blundered.  I  don't  wonder  that  Roy  fell 
in  love  with  you.  But,"  he  added  craftily,  "  it's  really 
for  his  good  that  he  marries  as  we  have  arranged. 
So,  if  he  comes  here,  I  have  your  word " 

"  You  have  nothing,"  she  answered  coldly.  "  I 
have  no  bargain  to  make  with  you.  I  have  told  you 
the  truth.  As  long  as  I  think  your  son's  welfare  de- 


THE    GAME  129 

mands  his  complying  with  your  wishes,  I  shall  con- 
tinue to  advise  him  to  obey  you.  That  is  all." 

"  That  is  enough,"  said  Mr.  Marshall,  preparing  to 
go.  "  I  feel  reassured.  Believe  me,  I  shall  not  forget 
your  kindness.  Good-by." 

He  extended  his  hand,  but  she  merely  bowed,  and 
in  another  instant  the  front  door  banged  behind  him. 

Eunice  returned  to  her.  class  and  once  more  became 
involved  in  the  labyrinths  of  elementary  arithmetic. 
Her  pupils  were  particularly  dull  in  this  branch  of 
study,  and  as  a  rule  there  was  much  scolding  and 
weeping  while  the  lesson  was  going  on;  but,  to  the 
surprise  of  the  class,  the  utter  stupidity  of  some  of 
the  girls  passed  to-day  without  reprimand.  Eunice's 
thoughts  were  elsewhere  as  she  propounded  this 
weighty  problem: 

"  If  a  tub  of  butter  contains  nine  pounds  to  the 
cubic  foot,  how  many  pounds  of  butter  would  there 
be  in  a  tub  four  feet  high  by  three  feet  in  circumfer- 
ence? Miss  Jones,  I'm  speaking  to  you." 

Miss  Jones,  a  fat  girl  with  red  cheeks,  looked  wor- 
ried. She  bit  her  pencil  nervously  and  glanced  ap- 
pealingly  at  her  fellow-pupils,  who  affected  the  utmost 
contempt  for  the  simplicity  of  the  problem. 

"  If  a  tub  of  butter,"  stammered  Miss  Jones,  who 
was  more  of  an  expert  in  boxes  of  caramels  than 
tubs  of  butter,  "  contains  nine  pounds  to  the  cubic 
foot " 


130  THE  END   OF 

"Yes — yes,"  said  Eunice  wearily,  "how  many 
pounds  would  there  be  in  a  tub  four  feet  high  by  three 
feet  in  circumference?  Come,  come,  Miss  Jones, 
you've  done  the  same  example  dozens  of  times  before." 

Miss  Jones  was  frantically  scratching  pencil  calcu- 
lations on  her  desk.  One  heard  her  muttering :  "  Nine 
pounds  multiplied  by  seven  equal  to  sixty-three."  Tri- 
umphantly she  cried,  "  Sixty-three  pounds !  " 

The  other  girls  giggled  and  Eunice  herself  had  to 
laugh. 

"  Miss  Jones,"  she  said  severely,  "  your  arithmetic 
is  getting  worse  and  worse.  You'll  stay  in  after  hours 
to  figure  it  out,  and  mind  you  do  better  to-morrow." 

Eunice  dismissed  the  class,  glad  to  be  alone.  Could 
what  Mr.  Marshall  had  told  her  be  true?  Roy 
gone  away  from  Alton  Court,  determined  to  seek  her 
out  and  marry  her!  What  would  she  say  to  him  if 
he  came?  Her  answer,  she  thought,  must  be  the 
same.  She  would  not  let  him  ruin  his  career  for  her 
fake.  Not  that  she  was  in  the  least  influenced  by 
what  his  father  had  said.  She  knew  well  that  Mr. 
Marshall,  senior,  was  considering  only  his  own  selfish 
interests  and  she  had  told  him  so  to  his  face.  But  she 
herself  felt  that  it  was  impossible.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  if  she  married  Roy  their  union  could  only 
be  productive  of  disappointment  on  his  side  and  un- 
happiness  on  hers.  Long  before  Mr.  Marshall 


THE    GAME  131 

pleaded  with  her,  therefore,  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  what  was  the  right  thing  for  her  to  do. 

Yet,  despite  her  stoicism,  she  could  not  help  con- 
trasting the  utter  hopelessness  of  her  present  existence 
with  what  it  might  be  as  Roy  Marshall's  wife.  His 
wife!  She  closed  her  eyes  in  silent  ecstasy  as  she 
pictured  herself  walking  proudly  at  his  side,  clinging 
to  his  arm,  envied  by  other  women,  secure  in  the 
knowledge  that  the  loneliness  and  uncertainties  of  her 
past  unhappy  life  were  at  an  end  and  that  a  new  life 
of  hope  and  love  lay  bright  with  promise  before  her. 
Then  her  heart  sank  as  she  realized  the  folly  of  her 
day-dream.  It  could  never  be.  Not  only  did  she  still 
shrink  from  the  responsibility  of  taking  an  irrevocable 
step  which  he  would  be  likely  to  regret  later,  but  she 
was  not  even  certain  that  he  really  loved  her.  It  was 
possibly  only  an  infatuation  of  the  moment.  Her 
presence  at  Alton  Court  had  lured  him  from  the  path 
he  himself  had  chosen  and  later  he  might  hold  her 
to  blame.  She  could  not  incur  the  risk ;  she  had  acted 
wisely  in  refusing  to  listen  to  him.  Yet  she  never 
ceased  thinking  of  him  and  wondering  why  he  did 
not  come.  If  he  had  left  Alton  Court,  where  could 
he  be  all  this  time? 

The  days  passed  and  still  no  word  from  Roy,  and 
gradually  Eunice  became  habituated  to  the  idea  that 
she  would  never  see  him  again.  But  whether  she 
did  or  not,  he  would  always  be  a  cherished  memory 


132 


THE    END    OF 


and  their  marriage  an  ideal  to  which  she  had  once 
dared  to  lift  her  eyes  as  to  the  eternal  stars,  forever 
far  beyond  her  reach.  It  never  occurred  to  her  to 
blame  him.  Perhaps,  like  herself,  he  shrank  from  in- 
flicting upon  himself  unnecessary  pain,  having  become 
convinced  that  his  father  was  right  and  that  his  real 
interests  lay  in  his  marrying  Lucy  Merrick. 

One  afternoon  about  two  weeks  after  the  visit  of 
Mr.  Merrick,  Sr.,  the  classes  were  assembled  in 
solemn  session,  the  girls  listening  with  no  interest 
whatever  to  an  exhaustive  homily  by  Miss  Sarah  on 
the  Importance  of  being  a  Perfect  Lady.  Eunice  and 
the  other  two  teachers  were  dissimulating  their  yawns 
as  best  they  could,  while  Miss  Martha,  like  some 
ferocious  Japanese  deity,  sat  on  her  throne  at  the 
end  of  the  room,  dominating  the  situation.  Suddenly 
there  was  a  terrific  crash  at  the  front  door  bell  down- 
stairs. Everybody  started,  Miss  Sarah  stopped  short, 
Miss  Martha  frowned.  The  echoes  of  the  first  peal 
had  not  died  away  when  there  came  another,  even 
louder  than  before,  as  if  the  person  without  could 
not  wait  to  gain  admittance.  A  noise  like  that  was 
such  an  outrage  to  the  dignified  traditions  of  the  Acad- 
emy that  the  Misses  Pell  looked  at  each  other  in  blank 
amazement,  even  consternation.  Was  the  house  on 
fire?  Miss  Martha  rose  majestically  from  her  throne 
and  sailed  out  of  the  room  to  investigate.  Her  lips 
were  compressed,  her  eyes  flashed,  and  her  corkscrew 


THE    GAME  133 

curls,  sizzling  under  the  electricity  generated  by  her 
wrath,  stood  out  at  right  angles.  There  was  an  omi- 
nous pause  during  which  the  pupils  nudged  each  other. 
Presently  Miss  Martha  returned.  Her  manner  was 
glacial,  her  expression  determined.  Looking  in  the 
direction  of  Eunice,  she  called: 

"Miss  Vincent!" 

Eunice  went  quickly  forward  with  fast-beating 
pulse.  Something  told  her  that  the  visit  so  long  ex- 
pected had  come  at  last.  She  knew  only  one  arm 
that  could  pull  the  bell  like  that. 

"  Miss  Vincent,"  said  Miss  Martha,  fixing  her  young 
teacher  with  a  glare  intended  to  wither  her.  "  I 
warned  you  a  few  days  ago  that  I  would  not  have 
men  calling  here  to  see  my  teachers.  The  person  who 
had  the  impertinence  to  ring  the  bell  in  that  brutal 
fashion  has  come  to  see  you.  Let  me  tell  you  that 
we  do  not  care  to  have  in  the  Academy  teachers  who 
have  such  acquaintances.  I  am  sorry,  Miss  Vincent, 
but  I  must  ask  for  your  immediate  resignation !  " 

"  Very  well,  Miss  Martha,  I  will  leave  when  you 
wish." 

But  she  scarcely  knew  what  Miss  Martha  was  say- 
ing. She  only  knew  that  Roy  was  downstairs  waiting 
to  see  her.  In  another  moment  she  was  in  the  parlor 
facing  him.  Hearing  her  step  he  came  forward,  hands 
outstretched : 


1 34  THE    END    OF 

"  Eunice !  "  he  said  gravely.  "  I  have  come  for 
you." 

Her  slender  little  hand  rested  passively  in  his  strong- 
brown  one.  She  made  no  attempt  to  withdraw  it. 
Her  eyes  gazed  lingeringly  on  his  face.  Yes,  it  was 
the  same  Roy,  the  same  handsome,  clean-shaven  face, 
the  same  wavy  hair  and  alert  brown  eyes,  the  same 
square  shoulders  capable,  like  Atlas,  of  supporting  a 
world.  She  was  so  overcome  with  the  suddenness 
of  it  all  that  she  felt  faint  and  dizzy.  How  she  would 
like  to  rest  her  head  on  that  shoulder  and  cry ! 

"  I  have  come  for  you,  Eunice,"  he  said  again. 

H€  made  no  attempt  to  kiss  the  mouth  that  was 
so  temptingly  near  his  own.  His  manner  was  col- 
lected and  serious,  like  that  of  a  husband  sure  of  his 
bride  and  the  kisses  that  would  come  to-morrow.  He 
addressed  her  by  her  first  name  quite  naturally  as  if 
he  had  done  so  for  years,  as  if  he  had  the  right. 

She  shook  her  head  and  smiled  at  him  sadly: 

"Where  have  you  been  all  this  time?"  she  asked. 
"  I  heard  you  left  Alton  Court  the  day  I  did." 

"  Where  have  I  been  ?  "  he  said.  "  Everywhere, 
fishing  in  Maine,  tramping  in  Vermont,  seeing  '  life ' 
in  New  York.  I  have  been  trying  to  forget  you — 
seeking  new  places  and  new  faces  so  I  might  banish 
you  from  my  mind.  But  it  was  no  good.  I  saw  your 
dear  face,  I  heard  your  sweet  voice  at  every  turn.  No 
matter  where  I  was,  no  matter  what  pleasures  I  ran 


THE    GAME  135 

after,  something  seemed  always  missing- — yourself. 
Finally  I  could  bear  it  no  longer  and  I  came  back. 
You  see,"  he  cried,  "  I  have  put  myself  to  the  test — 
can  you  still  doubt  that  I  love  you  ?  " 

Ah,  it  was  sweet  to  hear  this  from  his  lips!  Yes, 
he  loved  her — there  was  no  more  doubt  possible.  But 
the  situation  remained  the  same.  There  was  his 
future. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  she  said  gently,  "  sorry  for  you,  sorrier 
for  myself.  Ah,  why  need  we  conceal  the  truth  any 
longer?  I  do  love  you.  There  is  no  greater  honor 
or  happiness  I  could  wish  for  than  to  be  your  wife. 
It  is  because  I  love  you  that  I  wish  to  discourage  you 
and  urge  you  to  return  to  Alton  Court  and  all  which 
that  means  to  you.  We  must  not  only  consider  our- 
selves. If  you  had  no  ties,  if  circumstances  had  not 
already  laid  out  a  career  for  you,  I  would  say :  '  Yes, 
the  whole  world  is  before  us.  I  entrust  my  life  to  your 
keeping/  But  it  would  be  a  terrible  thing  to  throw 
away  this  splendid  opportunity  of  a  partnership,  with 
the  wealth  and  social  position  which  goes  with  it,  to 
face  the  world  practically  penniless.  We  must  be 
practical,  you  know,"  she  said  with  a  wistful  smile, 
"no  matter  how  much  our  hearts  may  ache.  No — 
go  back  to  Alton  Court  and  forget  me !  " 

"  Forget  you,"  he  cried  hotly,  "  I  can  never  forget 
you.  Can  we  forget  the  fragrance  of  the  rose  once 
we  have  smelled  it  ?  I  can  never  forget  you.  I  cannot 


136  THE    END    OP 

imagine  a  future  for  myself  that  does  not  include 
you.  Eunice,  if  you  have  no  pity  for  me — my  happi- 
ness, have  pity  for  yourself.  What  is  your  life  here 
in  this  dreadful  place — earning  a  mere  pittance,  not 
always  sure  of  that?  You  are  alone  in  the  world. 
Give  me  the  right  to  protect  you.  Let  me  be  your 
companion,  let  me  take  the  place  in  your  heart  of  those 
you  have  lost." 

He  pleaded  with  the  vibrating  accents  of  his  ardent 
young  manhood.  She  stood  silent  and  pensive.  Why, 
after  all,  should  she  make  this  sacrifice?  Would  he 
really  be  happier  with  Lucy  Merrick  than  with  her? 
What  were  wealth  and  position  compared  with  the 
loss  of  self-respect? 

"  Whether  you  marry  me  or  not,"  he  continued,  "  I 
shall  go  away.  I  am  penniless,  as  you  say,  but  I 
have  two  strong  arms  and  a  good  head.  I  don't  want 
a  position  which  involves  the  sacrifice  of  my  self- 
respect.  Since  I've  met  you  I  see  things  differently. 
Things  appear  in  their  real  colors — I  can  distinguish 
the  true  from  the  false — the  knave  from  the  honest 
man.  You  have  given  me  a  new  outlook  on  life.  I 
could  not  go  back  and  meet  my  father  on  the  old 
footing.  We  should  never  agree.  No,  I  shall  go 
away — I  don't  know  where — and  make  my  own  career 
as  I  can,  where  I  can.  With  you  to  inspire  me,  with 
you  at  my  side  to  help  and  encourage  me,  I  feel 
capable  of  doing  anything.  Without  your  beneficent 


THE    GAME  137 

influence,  I  don't  know  what  will  become  of  me.  If 
I  go  to  the  devil  it  will  be  your  fault !  Eunice,  for  the 
last  time,  I  ask  you — will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

She  looked  grave,  her  face  was  pale,  and  her  mouth 
trembled — from  joy  or  dread,  she  did  not  know  which. 
Then,  slowly,  she  leaned  forward  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder. 

Roy  gave  a  glad,  exultant  cry,  and  clasped  his  arms 
passionately  around  her  shrinking  form. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  you  will  never  regret  it?  "  she 
asked,  looking  up,  smiling  into  his  face.  "  Think 
well — before  it  is  too  late.  Your  happiness — my 
happiness  depends  upon  it" 

"I  have  thought  well  during  all  these  days,"  he 
replied  firmly,  "  and  the  answer  has  always  been : 
Yes — yes — yes."  Then  solemnly  repeating  the  for- 
mula of  the  marriage  service  he  said  slowly :  "  I  will 
love  you,  for  better  for  worse,  for  richer  for  poorer, 
in  sickness  and  in  health,  till  death  do  us  part.  My 
Eunice ! " 

His  face  bent  down  until  his  lips  met  hers  and  they 
ingered  there  in  exquisite  embrace 


PART  I! 
NOON 

"She  is  mine  own 

And  I  as  rich  in  having  such  a  jewel 
As  twenty  seas,  if  all  their  sand  were  pearl, 
The  water  nectar  and  the  rocks  pure  gold." 

— SHAKESPEARE. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  stupendous  city,  the  mammoth  metropolis 
of  the  Western  world,  the  modern  Babylon ! 
A  monstrous  octopus  of  steel  and  stone,  its 
tentacles  of  railroads,  subways  and  deep-water  tunnels 
reaching  out  in  every  direction  amid  the  deafening  and 
continual  roar  of  never-ceasing  traffic.  A  bewildering 
and  awe-inspiring  spectacle  of  dynamic  energy  and  hu- 
man industry,  fantastic  buildings  reaching  the  sky,  co- 
lossal bridges  thrown  across  mighty  rivers,  incredible 
engineering  feats,  crowning  marvels  of  the  steel  age. 
New  York,  the  dumping  ground  of  the  earth's  na- 
tions, the  habitat  of  the  American  millionaire,  the 
hunting-ground  of  the  thug  and  the  pickpocket,  a 
vast  encampment  in  brick  and  stone  of  nearly  four 
million  souls,  white  and  black,  good  and  bad,  law- 
abiding  and  criminal,  rich  and  poor,  herded  together 
m  closest  juxtaposition,  in  shameless  contiguity,  all 
eager  in  the  pursuit  of  one  object — the  elusive  dollar, 
and  degraded  to  a  common  level  in  the  universal 
greed  for  its  possession,  lying,  cheating,  stealing, 
killing  in  the  race  for  quick  wealth,  the  same  passion 
moving  palace  and  hovel,  fashion  jostling  with  rags, 
prudes  patronizing  prostitutes,  spendthrifts 
bing  with  paupers  in  the  mad  lust  for  gold. 


THE  END   OF 


Here  in  the  big  town,  in  the  whirling  vortex  of  each 
day's  insensate  rush,  jostled  this  way  and  that  by  the 
fast-moving,  resistless,  never-ending  streams  of  pant- 
ing, perspiring  humanity,  deafened  by  the  ear-splitting 
crash  of  overhead  trains,  confused  by  the  babel  of 
strange  tongues  and  the  clash  of  half  a  dozen  irrecon- 
cilable nationalities  —  Irish,  Germans,  Italians,  Lithu- 
anians, with  only  a  .sprinkling  of  native  Americans 
—  the  bewildered  stranger  drifts  along  buffeted  by  the 
eddying  currents  of  the  cosmopolitan  city,  fascinated 
spectator  of  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  "  life." 

The  luxurious  splendors  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  the 
sordid  squalor  of  the  Bowery;  the  resplendent  glitter 
of  the  theatres  and  the  sinister  horrors  of  the  Morgue  ; 
the  gluttonous  orgies  of  the  fashionable  restaurants 
and  the  heart-rending  tragedies  of  the  midnight 
"  bread  line  "  ;  the  ostentatious  extravagance  of  the 
over-rich  and  the  silent  suffering  of  the  desperately 
poor;  dyspeptic  millionaires  languidly  toying  with 
superabundance  of  rich  foods  in  Delmonico's  windows, 
watched  across  the  street  with  wistful  eyes  by  tattered 
tramps  bent  double  with  the  pangs  of  hunger;  the 
splendid  sweep  of  the  majestic  Hudson  and  the 
noisome  dangerous  rookeries  of  Mulberry  Bend  and 
Chinatown;  the  famous  Broadway  with  its  miles  of 
richly  stocked  shops,  and  the  east  and  west  shores 
lined  with  rotten,  evil-smelling  docks,  infested  with 
rats  and  river  thieves;  the  imposing  mausoleum  on 


THE    GAME  143 

Riverside,  erected  to  the  everlasting  glory  of  Amer- 
ica's greatest  soldier,  and  the  city's  unnamed,  unwept 
dead  in  Potter's  field;  the  luxuriously  appointed 
equipages  of  the  few,  and  the  filthy,  indecently  crowded 
street-cars  provided  for  the  many;  the  soul-satisfying 
quiet  of  St.  Patrick's  Cathedral  and  the  feverish 
frenzy  of  Wall  Street;  the  tawdry  dance  halls  with 
their  reckless  pleasure-seekers  and  the  gloomy  grave- 
yards with  their  weeping  mourners;  the  humanitarian 
labors  of  the  slum  workers  and  the  harmless,  well- 
meant  fanaticism  of  the  Salvation  Army ;  the  churning 
of  ferry  boats,  the  screaming  of  tugs  and  the  deep 
blasts  of  ocean  liners'  sirens  on  the  busy  river  ever 
rushing  seaward;  the  terrific  blasting  of  dynamite 
and  the  sweet  cooing  of  new-born  babes;  the  powers 
that  prey  and  the  powers  that  rule ;  boodle  politicians, 
corrupt  public  servants,  heroes  and  harlots,  churches 
and  brothels,  drunkards  and  prohibitionists,  preachers 
and  gamblers,  physicians  and  poisoners,  accoucheurs 
and  undertakers,  burglars  and  policemen,  college  pro- 
fessors and  illiterate  immigrants,  bankers,  merchants, 
journalists,  doctors,  lawyers — all  these  children  of 
men  worked  and  played  side  by  side  in  the  great  city 
— a  strange,  incongruous  medley  of  saints  and  sinners 
— mostly  sinners. 


\ 


144  THE 

Three  months  have  passed  since  that  afternoon  in 
the  dingy  parlor  of  the  Misses  Pells'  Academy  in  Bos- 
ton when  Eunice  threw  herself  into  Roy's  arms  and 
entrusted  her  future  into  his  keeping.  She  left  the 
school  the  next  morning,  much  to  Miss  Martha's  secret 
chagrin,  and  they  were  married  that  same  day  in  a 
little  church  in  Isabella  street  where  Eunice  sometimes 
attended.  Her  early  religious  training  was  Presby- 
terian but  she  did  not  attend  any  church  regularly. 
As  long  as  she  did  what  was  right,  she  did  not  con- 
sider that  it  mattered  much  where  one  worshipped 
God — in  cathedral,  meeting-house  or  synagogue. 
Roy,  who  was  a  frank  materialist,  balked  at  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  church  ceremony,  arguing  that  the  civil 
contract  was  all  that  was  necessary,  but  when  Eunice 
said  she  would  be  more  satisfied,  he  at  once  gave  way. 

He  wrote  to  his  mother  telling  her  of  the  marriage, 
and  also  to  his  father  informing  him  that  he  was  leav- 
ing Boston  with  his  wife.  He  expressed  regret  at 
being  compelled  to  act  in  opposition  to  his  wishes, 
but  pointed  out  that  he  was  his  own  master.  He 
admitted  that  he  owed  his  parents  duty  and  respect, 
but  he  would  be  guilty  of  ignoble  weakness  if  he 
acquiesced  without  protest  in  their  attempt  to  dispose 
of  his  personal  liberty  in  a  manner  which  he  could 
not  reconcile  with  his  manhood.  He  was  going  to 
make  his  own  way  in  the  world.  His  plans  were  at 
present  unsettled,  but  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  write 


THE    GAME  145 

soon  giving  glowing  accounts  of  his  success.  To  this 
letter  he  received  no  answer.  But  his  mother  wrote. 
She  had  wept  many  bitter  tears  over  her  headstrong 
boy's  departure.  She  was  somewhat  comforted  to 
hear  that  he  was  happy  and  she  prayed  that  Eunice 
would  make  him  a  good  wife.  His  father,  she  added, 
would  never  forgive  him  and  had  even  forbidden  his 
name  to  be  mentioned  at  Alton  Court.  There  also 
came  a  letter  from  Grace,  written  surreptitiously  and 
addressed  to  them  both,  rejoicing  in  their  marriage 
which  thus  brought  to  a  happy  conclusion  a  romance 
engendered  in  her  girlish  mind  long  before  the  possi- 
bility of  it  had  occurred  to  either  of  those  concerned. 

Eunice,  herself,  was  supremely  happy.  To  her,  it 
seemed  like  the  dawn  of  a  new  life,  the  scattering  of 
the  lowering  clouds  after  long  years  of  poignant  suf- 
fering. She  appeared  transformed.  Her  former 
melancholy  and  seriousness  of  manner  gave  place  to 
a  playful  cheerfulness,  sprightly  buoyancy,  joyful  high 
spirits.  For  the  first  time  since  he  had  known  her, 
Roy  heard  her  laugh  heartily.  He  was  delighted  to 
see  this  new  side  of  her  character.  Like  most  men, 
he  was  not  given  to  being  over-demonstrative,  but 
every  good  impulse  in  him  seemed  to  have  been 
awakened  by  this  union  with  the  woman  he  loved  and 
desired  so  ardently.  He  showed  his  devotion  in  a 
hundred  ways,  showering  upon  her  all  those  trifling 
little  attentions  which  every  woman  loves  whether  she 


146  THE   END    OF 

be  a  Hypatia  or  a  Circe.  One  day  he  brought  her 
fresh  and  odorous  violets,  her  favorite  flower,  he 
laughingly  insisting  that  they  were  symbolic  of  herself 
in  their  fragrant  and  aristocratic  beauty.  Then,  draw- 
ing her  to  him,  he  kissed  her  lips  and  fondly  caressed 
her  hair: 

"  You  have  made  a  new  man  of  me,  Eunice,"  he 
murmured.  "  I  owe  my  regeneration  to  you.  I  can 
never  repay  you.  You  are  my  God — my  life !  I  adore 
you !  " 

With  her  eyes  half  closed,  thrilled  by  the  kiss  which 
stirred  the  essence  of  Jtheir  two  beings,  she  listened 
to  his  words  of  tenderness. 

"  Roy/'  she  said,  "  you  have  in  you  the  making  of 
a  splendid  future.  The  first  step  upward  was  your 
emancipation  from  the  debasing  shackles  which  bound 
you  at  home.  So  long  as  you  were  nothing  to  me,  I 
had  no  right  to  advise  you  in  opposition  to  your 
father's  wishes,  but  now  your  interests  are  my  in- 
terests, I  can  speak  freely.  You  have  done  what  a 
self-respecting  man  should  do,  and  you  will  achieve 
great  things  because  I  feel,  I  know  it  is  in  you." 

But  in  marriage  there  are  matters  to  attend  to  more 
prosaic  than  love-making.  Directly  the  minister  had 
pronounced  the  words  which  made  them  man  and  wife 
it  became  necessary  to  face  the  situation  they  had 
created,  and  turn  their  steps  toward  the  world  they 
were  to  conquer.  They  had  married  practically  on 


THE    GAME  147 

nothing.  It  was  absolutely  necessary  that  Roy  should 
decide  at  once  what  he  was  going  to  do.  He  had  five 
hundred  dollars,  left  to  him  some  time  ago  by  an  aunt 
and  which  had  been  accumulating  interest  ever  since 
in  a  Boston  bank.  This  sum,  together  with  the  two 
or  three  hundred  dollars  saved  by  Eunice,  constituted 
their  entire  fortune.  To  their  youthful  optimism,  it 
seemed  more  than  enough  to  last  until  Roy  secured  a 
good  position.  The  next  question  was,  what  could  he 
do?  Like  most  young  men  just  out  of  college,  he 
had  only  the  vaguest  idea  of  what  he  was  best  fitted 
for.  He  knew  a  smattering  of  everything  and  was  ex- 
pert in  nothing.  In  view  of  their  critical  financial 
situation  all  idea  of  taking  up  a  profession  was  out 
of  the  question.  He  could  not  afford  the  time  neces- 
sary. He  must  earn  money  before  their  resources 
were  exhausted. 

Journalism  appealed  strongly  to  him  as  presenting 
many  advantages.  Firstly,  no  special  qualifications 
were  necessary;  secondly,  one  could  earn  at  least  a 
living  wage  immediately;  thirdly,  college  men  had 
little  difficulty  in  obtaining  employment  in  editorial 
offices.  Of  course,  he  would  have  to  begin  as  a  re- 
porter, but  that  was  excellent  training  for  a  business 
career.  It  would  bring  him  in  contact  with  the  world 
and  in  close  touch  with  affairs.  If  he  made  a  success 
of  journalism,  he  might  become  an  influential  editor 
or  even  own  a  newspaper  himself  and  so  rise  to  be 


148  THE   END    OF 

a  power  in  politics.  Big  salaries,  he  knew,  were  paid 
to  clever  men.  Was  not  Hinton,  editor  of  the  New 
York  Vulture,  getting  $50,000  a  year — more  than  the 
president  of  the  United  States  ?  Yet  Hinton  was  only 
a  reporter  when  he  started,  and  not  yet  forty  years  old. 
Salaries  of  $20,000  and  $15,000  were  to  be  picked  up 
every  day.  Of  course,  Roy  did  not  expect  to  limit 
himself  to  a  mere  $20,000  a  year,  that  was  not  his  idea 
of  what  a  clever  man  should  be  able  to  earn,  but  for 
a  young  man  barely  launched  in  life,  it  was  a  com- 
fortable income.  He  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  that 
after  a  few  years'  experience  in  newspaper  work,  his 
services  would  command  at  least  that  figure. 

Eunice  had  little  knowledge  of  these  matters,  but 
she  agreed  to  everything,  sharing  all  Roy's  enthusi- 
asm. She  had  heard  that  the  newspaper  business  was 
a  terribly  hard  one,  with  shockingly  long  hours,  and 
wretchedly  paid,  but  these  unfavorable  reports  may 
have  come  from  someone  who  had  proved  incompetent, 
and  who  would  fail  in  everything.  At  any  rate,  it 
would  mean  a  certain  income  at  once,  and  if  journal- 
ism did  not  enjoy  the  dignity  of  being  considered  a 
profession,  it  was  at  least  a  gentlemanly  calling  and  a 
stepping-stone  to  authorship.  Then  arose  the  question 
where  they  would  go.  Neither  of  them  wished  to 
stay  in  Boston  and  so  both  hit  simultaneously  on  the 
same  place — New  York.  If  Roy  were  to  go  into  jour- 
nalism it  was  better  that  he  start  in  the  metropolis. 


THti    GAME  149 

So  for  Manhattan  they  started  a  few  days  after  their 

marriage. 

It  seemed  like  home-coming  to  Eunice  when  they 
arrived  at  the  Grand  Central  Station,  and  she  beheld 
once  more  the  familiar  scene  around  the  busy  depot- — 
the  clanging  street  cars,  the  crowds  of  commuters 
hurrying  to  catch  their  trains,  the  entangled  carriage 
traffic,  the  hoarse  cries  of  the  newspaper  vendors. 
Her  heart  sank  as  she  remembered  the  sad  circum- 
stances under  which  she  had  last  been  in  that  spot — 
the  day  of  her  father's  funeral.  Again  she  saw  the 
black  highly  polished  hearse  containing  the  body  of 
the  suicide,  followed  by  the  solitary  carriage  in  which 
she  and  her  grief-stricken  mother  were  seated,  the  ride 
to  Cypress  Hills  cemetery,  through  the  pelting  rain, 
the  hurried  service  by  the  yawning  grave  and  her 
mother's  hysterical  sobs.  Instinctively,  Eunice  clung 
tighter  to  Roy's  arm,  trying  to  dismiss  from  her  mind 
this  nightmare  of  the  past,  determined  to  forget  every- 
thing and  think  only  of  her  new-found  happiness. 

They  went  to  a  place  in  West  57th  Street  where 
Roy  had  stopped  on  a  previous  visit.  It  was  the 
typical  New  York  boarding-house,  the  transient  home 
of  all  sorts  of  queer  people — crabbed  old  bachelors, 
disowned  by  their  relatives,  dapper  shop  clerks  seeking 
social  triumphs  on  $15  a  week,  cranky  virgins  of 
forty  who  still  entertained  hopes,  mysterious  divorcees 
whose  cases  were  always  in  the  courts,  theatrical 


150  THE    END    OF 

soubrettes  taking1  a  compulsory  rest,  long-haired  litter- 
ateurs who  wrote  unacted  plays,  provincial  visitors 
from  out  of  town,  seeing  the  big  city  for  the  first  time. 
The  house  was  old-fashioned  and  gloomy  and  its  fur- 
nishings shabby  and  furniture  rickety.  There  was  an 
air  of  utter  desolation  in  the  bedrooms  with  their  cheap 
and  gaudy  wall  papers,  gilt  framed  chromos,  cracked 
toilet  service  and  doubtful-looking  beds.  The  staircase 
creaked  ominously  and  the  over-worked  Irish  slavey 
looked  resigned  to  the  worst  that  could  possibly  hap- 
pen. It  was  not  exactly  a  cheerful  abode  for  a  young 
bride,  but  Eunice  philosophically  reflected  that  it 
would  not  be  for  long.  Roy  would  soon  be  in  a  posi- 
tion to  afford  something  much  nicer.  They  could  take 
an  apartment  or  even  buy  a  house.  On  the  $20,000 
a  year  he  expected  to  earn  one  can  live  well,  even  in 
New  York.  Meantime  they  could  well  put  up  with 
little  inconveniences. 

As  boarding  establishments  go,  Mrs.  Davis'  house 
was  by  no  means  the  worst  of  its  kind.  The  table  was 
not  so  bad  that  it  was  impossible — that  is  to  say, 
there  were  fewer  flies  in  the  soup,  more  meat  on  the 
bones,  and  one  could  manage  to  see  something  on 
one's  plate  without  the  use  of  a  microscope.  The 
landlady  herself,  like  most  women  of  her  class,  was 
an  interesting  character.  Of  good  family,  she  had  in- 
herited a  little  money,  and,  being  left  a  widow, 
had  bought  the  house  as  an  investment  and  gone  into 


THE    GAME  151 

keeping  boarders  as  a  business.  Incidentally,  she 
"  played  "  in  Wall  Street  and  could  discuss  the  various 
brands  of  stock  such  as  "  Steel  Common,"  "  Amalga- 
mated Coppers,"  "Northern  Pacifies,"  "B.R.T.s,"  etc., 
as  glibly  as  if  describing  the  trimmings  of  a  new  bon- 
net. Mrs.  Davis  was  also  a  walking  encyclopaedia  and 
next  to  feeding  her  pet  parrots — three  fierce  birds  of 
which  her  boarders  stood  in  mortal  fear  and  which  she 
let  out  of  their  cage  when  she  thought  her  "  guests  " 
were  lingering  too  long  at  the  table — small  gossip  was 
her  favorite  pastime.  Having  lived  in  the  city  for 
nearly  forty  years,  during  thirty  years  of  which  she 
had  "  entertained  "  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  people, 
she  knew  everything  about  everybody.  On  speaking 
terms  with  few  of  her  neighbors,  she  was  nevertheless 
acquainted  with  their  affairs  almost  as  well  as  they 
were  themselves,  and  if  given  the  slightest  encourage- 
ment, would  gladly  furnish  the  family  history  of  every 
person  of  prominence  in  town.  But  she  had  a  kind, 
motherly  heart  and  as  she  took  a  personal  interest  in 
the  welfare  of  each  of  her  boarders,  was  exceedingly 
popular  with  them  all. 

Eunice  was  pleased  with  everything  like  a  child  with 
a  new  toy.  She  clapped  her  hands  at  their  cute  little 
room,  blushed  becomingly  when  Mrs.  Davis  laid  em- 
phasis on  it  being  the  bridal  chamber,  and  soon  made 
herself  popular  with  all  the  freak  boarders  in  the 
dining-room.  She  had  already  won  a  place  in  the 


1 52  THE   END    OF 

landlady's  affections  by  alluding  to  her  dreadful  par- 
rots as  "  those  sweet  birds." 

In  the  evening  Roy  took  his  wife  out  to  see  the 
sights.  They  walked  arm  in  arm  down  Broadway, 
which  from  Forty-fifth  down  to  Twenty-third  streets 
was  a  blinding  blaze  of  electric  lights,  mostly  elaborate 
illuminated  signs,  one  glorifying  a  certain  whiskey, 
another  a  safety  razor,  another  a  cathartic,  still  an- 
other a  choice  brand  of  champagne.  The  crowds 
pouring  from  restaurants  and  street  cars,  ignored  the 
dark  and  deserted  side  streets  and  concentrated  on  the 
Great  White  Way,  pushing  and  jostling,  all  intent  on 
one  object — an  evening's  amusement.  The  theatres, 
as  thick  as  beer  saloons,  were  all  doing  a  rushing 
business. 

"  Look  at  that  excitement ! "  exclaimed  Eunice, 
clinging  tighter  to  Roy's  arm.  "  It  must  be  a  fight !  " 

A  mob  of  well-dressed  men  and  women,  massed  at 
the  entrance  of  one  of  the  larger  playhouses,  fought 
like  frenzied  maniacs,  pushing,  shouting,  waving  canes 
and  umbrellas,  in  a  frantic  endeavor  to  reach  the  box 
office,  while  stalwart  policemen  flourished  their  clubs 
to  preserve  the  line.  The  bill  was  a  "  hit "  and  all 
New  York  wanted  to  see  the  new  play  at  the  same 
time.  The  S.R.O.  sign  had  been  displayed  long  since. 

"  Orchestra  seats !  No  more  at  the  box  office !  " 
yelled  a  hangdog-looking  speculator,  shoving  in  Roy's 


THE    GAME  153 

face  his  two  fists,  one  filled  with  greenbacks,  the  other 
with  tickets. 

"  How  much  ? "  demanded  Roy,  putting  his  hand 
in  his  pocket. 

"  Three  dollars  apiece  and  they're  cheap  at  that," 
declared  the  man,  a  silent  partner  of  the  management. 
"  Best  show  in  twenty  years.  Best  talent  on  the 
American  stage — yes  sir,  siree!" 

"  No,  Roy,"  objected  Eunice,  "  it's  too  much.  Six 
dollars !  We  can't  afford  it." 

"  Once  is  not  every  day,"  laughed  Roy.  "  I  feel 
like  giving  you  a  treat  to-night,  dear.  Please  let  me 
have  my  way.  The  piece  must  be  remarkable  to  draw 
such  crowds." 

He  paid  the  blood  money  and  they  went  in,  prepared 
to  see  remarkable  acting  and  wonderful  scenic  dis- 
play. The  theatre  was  one  where  Booth,  Barrett,  Ir- 
ving, Bernhardt  had  trodden  the  boards,  and  Roy 
argued  that  the  new  production  must  be  at  least  an  at- 
tempt to  keep  up  the  artistic  standard  set  by  those 
great  artists.  But  they  were  disappointed.  The  piece, 
mis-styled  on  the  programme  musical  comedy,  was 
the  greatest  rubbish  imaginable,  a  mere  hodgepodge 
of  rough  horse-play  and  idiotic  fooling.  What  was 
original  in  the  music  was  commonplace  and  what  was 
tuneful  was  reminiscent.  Of  plot  there  was  absolutely 
none,  the  inane  situations  and  vacuous  lines  merely 
serving  to  introduce  scantily  draped  young  women, 


154  THE   END    OF 

while  the  star  made  his  entrance  on  his  head  and  later 
won  howls  of  delightful  applause  by  imitating  a  man 
afflicted  with  locomotor  ataxia.  There  was  not  a  witty 
line,  not  a  pleasing  song,  nothing  but  the  baldest  trash 
possible.  It  seemed  preposterous  that  the  New  York 
audiences  would  stand  for  such  drivel. 

"  We've  been  buncoed,"  said  Roy,  turning  to 
Eunice. 

"  Yes,  it's  dreadful,"  she  yawned.    "  Let's  go." 

They  returned  to  Fifty-seventh  Street  six  dollars 
poorer  in  pocket,  but  considerably  richer  in  experience. 
The  next  morning  they  discussed  the  matter  with  their 
immediate  neighbors  at  table. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  long-haired  gentleman  who,  accord- 
ing to  the  traditions  of  the  house,  had  once  been  a 
dramatic  critic  himself,  "  the  New  York  stage  has 
gone  to  the  dogs.  The  managers  nowadays  cater  only 
to  the  '  bounder.'  The  dignified,  literary  drama  is 
derided.  Shakespeare  they  won't  have  at  any  price. 
The  art  of  acting  is  dying  out.  The  buffoon  holds  the 
centre  of  the  stage.  Soon  there  will  be  no  more  plays, 
no  more  actors.  Public  taste  is  completely  degraded. 
I  have  written  a  play  myself,  a  far  better  piece  of 
work,  I  assure  you,  than  anything  produced  during 
the  past  two  seasons — and  yet  no  manager  will  pro- 
duce it.  Some  time  when  you  have  time,  I  will  read  it 
to  you — what?" 

Roy  was  so  afraid  that  he  might  produce  the  MS. 


THE   GAME  155 

and  offer  to  read  it  on  the  spot,  that  he  beat  a  hasty 
retreat  from  the  dining-room,  followed  more  leisurely 
by  Eunice,  who  had  to  make  an  effort  to  control  her 
laughter. 

Roy  now  began  to  concern  himself  seriously  about 
finding  a  position.  He  was  still  bent  on  journalism, 
and  he  wondered  how  best  to  set  about  it.  Then  he 
remembered  Winchell,  an  old  classmate  of  his  at  Yale 
who  had  recently  entered  the  office  of  his  father,  a 
stock  broker,  in  Wall  Street.  Yes,  that  was  a  capital 
idea.  Winchell  would  surely  know  some  one  who 
could  give  him  a  letter  to  one  of  the  newspapers.  So 
he  lost  no  time  in  going  down  to  the  famous  street 
where  the  bulls  and  the  bears  rend  the  innocent  lambs. 
Winchell  was  delighted  to  see  him. 

"  Hallo,  Marshall,  who  on  earth  would  have  ex- 
pected to  see  you  ?  What  brought  you  to  New  York  ? 
I  thought  you  were  directing  the  affairs  of  Marshall 
&  Company  by  this  time." 

Briefly,  Roy  explained  the  situation,  his  marriage, 
his  quarrel  with  his  father  and  his  determination  to 
fight  his  own  way  in  the  world.  "  I  want  to  try  jour- 
nalism," he  said.  "  Can  you  help  me  to  get  on  one 
of  the  papers  here  ?  " 

Winchell  shook  his  head  dubiously: 

"  Don't  think  of  it,  old  man,  it's  a  h-11  of  a  life,  Wil- 
ing hours^  little  money  and  no  future."  Suddenly  an 


156  THE   END   OP 

idea  occurred  to  him  and  his  face  brightened.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  I'd  do  in  your  place." 

"  What  ?  "  queried  Roy,  rather  crestfallen  to  find 
that  Winchell  threw  cold  water  on  his  journalistic 
ambitions. 

"  Go  to  Pittsburg — the  city  of  steel !  Your  knowl- 
edge of  mechanics  would  make  you  a  valuable  man 
to  any  of  the  big  ironmasters.  The  entire  country  is 
becoming  steel-mad — there  was  never  such  a  boom — 
fortunes  are  being  made  in  a  day.  They  need  young 
men.  Go  to  Pittsburg  by  all  means.  I'll  give  you  a 
letter  to  Miller,  manager  of  the  Excelsior  Steel  Com- 
pany. You'd  have  to  start  at  the  bottom,  but  there's 
the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime  to  the  right  man !  " 

But  Roy  shook  his  head.  He  knew,  of  course,  that 
great  fortunes  were  being  made  daily  in  the  steel 
business,  that  the  iron  and  steel  industry  in  America 
had  suddenly  developed  to  sensational  proportions, 
that  the  Excelsior  Steel  Company  was  performing 
prodigies,  its  plant  running  night  and  day  to  catch  up 
with  orders,  astonishing  the  world  with  its  output. 
That,  indeed,  was  a  business  of  giants  1  But,  for  the 
present  at  least,  he  had  the  journalistic  bee  in  his 
bonnet  and  he  was  determined  to  give  it  a  trial.  If 
he  did  not  like  newspaper  work  then  it  would  be  time 
to  go  to  Pittsburg. 

Seeing  that  he  could  not  convince  his  old  chum  that 
newspaper  reporting  was  only  a  waste  of  time  and 


THE   GAME  157 

energy,  Winchell  gave  him  a  letter  to  the  city  editor 
of  the  Daily  Owl. 

n  If  you  can't  stand  the  racket,  Marshall,  old  chap, 
come  to  me  again  and  I'll  give  you  a  warm  letter  to 
Miller.  He  runs  the  Excelsior  plant  and  would  do 
anything  for  a  friend  of  mine.  Pittsburg  is  where  your 
future  lies,  not  in  running  errands  for  city  editors." 

Roy  thanked  his  friend  cordially  and  returned 
jubilant  to  Eunice,  who  was  greatly  interested  to  hear 
of  Winchell's  suggestion  about  the  steel  business. 
Certainly,  she  argued,  steel  making  was  likely  to  be 
more  profitable  than  newspaper  reporting,  which  for 
some  time  would  only  give  them  a  livelihood,  while 
there  was  no  telling  how  rapidly  a  man  might  rise  in 
the  steel  business.  She  argued,  however,  that  he  could 
try  the  newspaper  life  and  if  it  proved  uncongenial 
they  could  take  advantage  of  Mr.  Winchell's  offer 
and  go  to  Pittsburg. 

So  the  next  morning  Roy  presented  himself  with  his 
letter  at  the  offices  of  the  Daily  Owl.  The  city  editor, 
like  most  of  his  class,  was  gruff  as  a  bear  and  kept  his 
visitor  standing  some  minutes  before  he  condescended 
to  pay  any  attention  to  his  visitor  and  read  the  letter. 
Then  he  said : 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you?  " 

"  I  thought  there  might  be  a  vacancy,"  ventured 
Roy. 


158  THE   END   OF 

"  There  are  never  any  vacancies,"  snapped  the  edi- 
tor. 

"  I'm  a  Yale  man  and  I  thought  I'd  like  to  try  re- 
porting." 

The  editor  looked  him  over  and  blinked.  It  was 
just  Roy's  luck  that  one  of  the  city  force  had  reported 
sick  that  day,  so  they  were  short-handed. 

"  I'll  give  you  a  trial,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Report  here 
at  two  o'clock  for  general  work.  The  salary  is  fifteen 
dollars  &  week." 

Fifteen  dollars  a  week! — the  wage  of  a  stenog- 
rapher. Roy  thought  he  must  have  misunderstood. 

"  How  much  did  you  say  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Fifteen  a  week.  If  you  are  any  good  you'll  get 
more,  and  later  you  may  be  put  on  space." 

This  was  a  long  way  from  the  $20,000  a  year  he  had 
looked  forward  to,  and  he  felt  a  little  awkward  about 
explaining  his  disappointment  to  Eunice.  Certainly, 
they  could  not  live  on  any  such  ridiculous  sum.  Their 
reserve  fund  was  fast  diminishing  and  unless  he  could 
make  more  than  their  expenses  they  would  soon  find 
themselves  in  difficulties.  He  recalled  his  father's 
words:  "You  won't  find  it  so  easy,"  and  he  winced 
at  the  uncomfortable  thought  that  his  sire  had  spoken 
prophetically,  and  that  he  might  really  have  difficulty 
in  making  enough  to  keep  Eunice  comfortably.  She 
should  not  teach  again,  he  was  determined  on  that, 
even  if  he  had  to  work  night  and  day  to  keep  things 


THE   GAME  159 

going.  The  only  way  was  to  try  the  newspaper  bus- 
iness for  a  time  and  then,  if  he  found  he  could  not 
make  enough,  to  give  it  up  and  go  into  something 
else. 

On  his  way  home  he  bought  Eunice  a  bunch  of 
violets.  They  were  an  expensive  luxury,  but  he  could 
not  resist  the  temptation.  He  never  saw  violets  with- 
out being  reminded  of  his  wife. 

"  You  see,  dear,"  he  said  as  he  kissed  her,  "  it's  not 
going  to  be  so  hard  after  all.  I  start  on  the  Owl  this 
afternoon.  The  salary  at  first  is  merely  nominal,  but 
I'll  get  more  later  on." 

He  spoke  in  an  optimistic  strain  in  order  to  en- 
courage her,  and  incidentally  to  encourage  himself. 

"  I  hope  you'll  like  it,  Roy  dear,"  she  smiled  cheer- 
fully. Then  tapping  his  forehead  significantly  she 
added,  "  But  something  tells  me  that  journalism  is  not 
your  true  vocation." 


i  oo  THE   END    OF 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  hands  of  the  great  illuminated  clock  in  the 
New  York  Owl  building  were  approaching 
the  hour  of  midnight.  In  a  few  minutes  the 
colossal  bronze  figures  dominating  the  entrance  of  the 
Venetian-like  home  of  America's  most  successful 
newspaper  would  automatically  strike  the  twelve  pon- 
derous, rich-toned  notes  announcing  the  completion 
of  another  day.  On  the  streets  the  reverberating 
sounds  of  belated  traffic,  the  shouting  of  carriage 
numbers  by  leather-lunged  negro  porters,  the  discord- 
ant cries  of  newsboys  hawking  night  editions,  the 
chatter  and  laughter  of  thousands  of  playgoers  hur- 
rying from  empty  theatres  to  home  or  restaurant, 
gradually  quieted  down  to  the  occasional  clatter  of 
a  solitary  cab  horse's  hoofs  and  the  imbecile  jocularity 
of  some  intoxicated  bounder.  The  lights  along  the 
Rialto  were  extinguished  one  by  one,  the  great  city 
sank  into  comparative  peace  and  darkness.  The  keen 
December  air  was  cold  and  penetrating.  The  wind 
was  rising  and  flakes  of  snow  were  beginning  to  fall. 
Alone  the  Owl  offices  blazed  with  light  and 
throbbed  with  dynamic  energy.  Here  was  no  sugges- 
tion of  sleep;  from  cellar  to  roof  the  place  fairly 


THE    GAME  161 

hummed  with  feverish  activity.  In  the  basement, 
towering  from  floor  to  ceiling,  snorting,  trembling, 
eager  to  start  on  their  long  daily  run  of  five  hundred 
thousand  copies,  were  the  giant  printing  presses,  mar- 
vels of  American  invention  and  mechanical  genius, 
possessed  almost  of  human  intelligence,  doing  every- 
thing in  the  making  of  the  modern  newspaper,  except 
the  actual  news  gathering,  writing  and  typesetting, 
the  entire  journal  of  sixteen  pages  evolving  ready- 
made  from  a  monster  reel  of  blank  white  paper — 
printed,  pasted,  counted,  folded,  cut  and  delivered  to 
the  seller  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye!  The  expert 
pressmen,  appearing  like  pigmies  beside  the  leviathans 
of  steel,  stood  at  their  posts  with  military  precision 
and  discipline,  their  eyes  anxiously  watching  the  clock, 
awaiting  the  forms,  so  that  the  first  edition  might  go 
to  press  on  railroad  time.  They  knew  that  a  delay 
of  a  fraction  of  a  minute  might  mean  the  missing  of 
the  early  trains,  which  dread  calamity,  if  traced  to 
them,  would  result  in  someone  losing  his  job. 

Upstairs  in  the  editorial  offices  an  army  of  scribes 
were  frantically  feeding  the  monster.  The  long  day 
of  fourteen  hours'  hard  toil  was  nearing  its  close. 
Tired  editors  and  exhausted  reporters  were  working 
like  beavers  in  a  frenzied  effort  to  keep  the  fifty  in- 
satiate typesetting  mechanics  on  the  floor  above  sup- 
plied with  "  copy."  The  noise  and  seeming  confusion 
was  bewildering.  Telephone  bells  were  ringing  fu- 


1 62  THE    END    OF 

rioosly,  editors  were  shouting  for  boys,  cheeky  mes- 
sengers were  miming  in  and  out,  a  dozen  typewriters 
were  clicking  feverishly.  From  the  telegraph  room 
across  the  hall  came  the  familiar  sound  of  the  sharp 
metallic  tic-tic  of  the  Morse  code,  twenty  expert  opera- 
tors receiving  on  as  many  instruments  despatches 
from  all  over  the  world. 

In  the  big  city  room,  thirty  men  were  sitting  in  their 
shirt  sleeves  at  small  desks  arranged  in  cross  rows 
as  in  school,  scribbling  as  for  dear  life.  These  were 
reporters  just  in  from  their  respective  "  stories,"  and 
each  in  a  class  by  himself.  There  were  the  special 
assignment  men,  the  political  reporter — a  very  im- 
portant, self-satisfied  person,  decidedly  chesty,  who 
enjoyed  the  privilege  of  being  on  speaking  terms  with 
the  managing  editor — the  ship  news  reporter,  and  the 
real  estate  reporter.  Then  came  the  men  on  general 
work  who,  in  turn,  divided  themselves  into  classes — 
the  men  who  got  the  fat  assignments,  such  as  juicy 
murder  cases  or  mysterious  disappearances,  items  of 
great  popular  interest  which  enabled  them  to  run  their 
space  bills  up  to  $100  a  week  and  more,  down  to  the 
bumble  cub  reporter,  fresh  from  college,  learning  the 
business,  and  glad  to  get  such  crumbs  as  fell  from  the 
city  editor's  table.  All  these  men  "  covered  "  the  im- 
portant local  news — murders,  fires,  riots,  accidents,  ar- 
rests, mass  meetings,  etc.,  etc.  Other  local  news  of  a 
special  nature,  such  as  sports,  theatres,  finance,  society, 


THE    GAME  163 

was  handled  by  special  experts  who  had  rooms  and  as- 
sistants in  private  offices  on  either  side  of  the  long 
passage  leading  to  the  main  entrance.  There  also  was 
the  room  of  the  foreign  editor,  who,  with  two  assis- 
tants, wrestled  with  cable  despatches  from  foreign 
countries,  including  freak  specials  on  dog  shows  in 
London,  auction  sales  in  Paris  and  premature  burial 
on  the  Riviera.  Here,  too,  was  the  sanctum  of  the 
weather  expert  who  had  been  a  marked  man  ever  since 
1888  when,  for  the  day  of  the  great  blizzard — the 
worst  storm  that  ever  struck  Manhattan — he  made  the 
Daily  Owl  predict  a  "  bright  sunny  day  for  New  York 
City  and  vicinity !  " 

All  the  editors  were  driving  their  assistants  to  ut- 
most speed — "  head  "  writing,  blue  pencilling,  pasting 
— in  the  mad  race  to  beat  the  clock,  for  at  midnight  to 
the  minute  they  were  all  due  upstairs  at  the  "  make- 
up "  slabs,  to  face  the  grim  night  editor  who  had  little 
mercy  for  laggards. 

"  Copy !  Copy !  Copy !  "  came  cries  from  every 
corner  of  the  building,  and  the  urchins  employed  for 
that  purpose  flew  here  and  there,  collecting  packages 
of  edited  manuscript  which  was  stuffed  into  the 
"  copy "  elevator  and  whisked  up  to  the  composing 
room  above  where  it  was  hastily  cut  up  into  small 
"  takes  "  for  the  machine  operators.  This  was  the  only 
hour  of  the  night  when  the  "  copy  "  boy  was  known 
to  exert  himself,  except  perhaps  at  ten  o'clock  when 


1 64  THE    END    OF 

he  received  generous  tips  from  the  staff  for  foraging 
for  sandwiches  at  a  neighboring  hash  house. 

In  one  corner  of  the  large  city  room,  twelve  men 
were  sitting  at  a  long  table  spread  over  with  sheets 
of  white  paper.  They  were  in  their  shirt  sleeves  and 
most  of  them  wore  green  shades  to  protect  their  eyes 
from  the  powerful  electric  drop  lights.  Before  each 
man  was  a  batch  of  "  copy  " — reporters'  manuscript, 
Associated  Press  reports  and  telegraph  despatches — 
which  must  be  put  in  shape  with  the  aid  of  scissors, 
paste  and  blue  pencil.  These  men  were  editors,  but  as 
that  title  gave  too  much  dignity  to  their  position  they 
were  called  "  copy  readers."  They  were  the  galley 
slaves  of  journalism,  overworked  and  underpaid,  and 
despised  by  their  natural  enemy,  the  reporter,  who  in- 
sisted that  they  ruthlessly  blue-pencilled  his  brightest 
thoughts.  They  looked  weary  and  they  were. 
They  had  been  working  steadily  since  six 
o'clock  without  a  let-up,  wrestling  with  villainous 
"  copy,"  and  they  would  be  kept  at  it  until  2.30  when 
the  Associated  Press  sent  the  "  Good  Night "  over  the 
wire.  But  no  matter  how  he  is  overworked,  no  matter 
what  injustices  he  suffers  at  the  hands  of  a  conscience- 
less employer  and  subordinate  petty  taskmasters,  a 
newspaper  man  is  always  loyal  and  will  suffer  incon- 
venience, endure  hardship  and  even  incur  personal 
danger  to  serve  some  benefit  to  his  paper — a  merciless, 
soulless  Juggernaut  which  grinds  out  its  immense 


THE    GAME  165 

profits  yearly,  ignoring  the  very  existence  of  the  man 
who  serves  it  so  faithfully,  ready  to  drop  him  the  in- 
stant when,  his  life  worn  out  in  its  service,  he  has 
ceased  to  be  as  active  as  younger  men.  In  this  respect 
the  newspaper  man  resembles  the  soldier  in  the  field, 
never  questioning  the  order  of  his  superior,  ever 
prompt  to  do  his  duty  no  matter  at  what  personal  risk 
or  sacrifice  of  personal  comfort.  All  honor  to  the  con- 
scientious, hard-working,  anonymous  newspaper  man ! 
The  editor  in  charge  of  the  desk  watched  his  men 
keenly.  Every  nerve  in  him  was  stretched  to  snap- 
ping point,  but  he  was  outwardly  unperturbed.  The 
man  in  his  position  who  gets  excited  or  "  rattled  "  is 
no  good  at  the  head  of  a  "  copy  "  desk,  where,  at  the 
busiest  hour,  the  pace  is  simply  terrific.  Half  a 
dozen  big  "  stories  "  were  running.  News  had  broken 
loose  in  half  a  dozen  different  directions.  The  night 
editor,  suddenly  confronted  with  the  problem  of 
squeezing  fifty  columns  into  a  paper  affording  room 
only  for  thirty,  had  torn  the  schedule  to  pieces  and 
demoralized  all  departments  by  suddenly  ordering 
"  stories  "  cut  down,  old  "  heads  "  changed  and  new 
ones  written.  The  "  copy  "  readers  were  doing  their 
best  to  obey  contradictory  orders,  the  man  in  charge 
goading  them  on  on  like  a  jockey  touching  a  racer 
with  the  whip :  "  Got  that  head  ready,  Brown  ? ", 
"  Finished  that  story  ^  Jones  ?  ",  "  Sent  your  introduc- 
tion up,  Smith  ?  ",  "  Here,  Robinson,  rush  this  a  page 


166  THE   END   OF 

at  a  time ! "  and  similar  little  ticklers  that  are  apt  to 
get  on  a  man's  nerves. 

But  if  things  were  kept  humming  on  the  editorial 
floor,  they  fairly  sizzled  upstairs,  where  they  were 
rushing  the  forms  to  press.  Here  the  night  editor,  a 
burly  Irishman  with  dishevelled  hair,  a  peppery  tem- 
per and  a  cob  pipe,  was  King.  The  heat,  glare  and 
din  made  of  the  place  an  Inferno.  Fifty  composing 
machines  were  racing  at  full  speed,  eating  up  "  copy," 
the  noise  of  the  type  moulds  falling  into  the  matrices 
sounding  like  a  continuous  heavy  rain  of  molten  metal. 
Compositors,  make-up  men,  printer's  devils  rushed  ex- 
citedly about  getting  in  each  other's  way,  snatching  hot 
type  from  the  machine  operators  and  then  hurrying 
with  it  to  the  "  make-up  "  slabs,  where  anxious  editors 
were  waiting  to  make  up  their  respective  pages.  The 
night  editor,  his  hair  bristling  on  end,  like  a  cat  sud- 
denly scared  by  a  cur  and  with  perspiration  literally 
streaming  down  his  face  from  a  sheer  sense  of  his 
weighty  responsibility,  kept  his  anxious  eye  on  the  fast 
speeding  hands  of  the  unconcerned  clock  while  his 
profane  tongue  lashed  the  hustling  printers.  The 
forms  for  the  first  edition  must  go  down  on  schedule 
time,  even  if  hell  broke  loose,  as  indeed  often  hap- 
pened. So  the  type,  still  hot,  was  hurriedly  thrown  in 
and  the  pages  quickly  locked,  while  the  night  editor  and 
composing  room  superintendent,  a  pair  in  thorough 
sympathy  with  each  other,  paced  the  floor  growling  and 


THE  GAME  167 

snarling.  Finally,  the  last  form  got  away — and  the 
night  editor,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  brow,  and  with 
an  armful  of  rough  proofs,  went  downstairs  to  quarrel 
with  the  various  editors  over  the  unnecessary  space 
their  "  stuff  "  had  taken  up.  The  forms,  rapidly  cast 
in  circular  shape  from  a  soft  matrix,  reached  the  press- 
room in  the  basement  a  few  moments  later.  They 
were  slipped  on  to  the  mighty  cylinders,  the  pressman 
pulled  a  lever  and  the  steel  monster  started  on  its  tre- 
mendous run,  spitting  out  at  the  incredible  speed  of 
a  hundred  copies  a  minute,  finished  newspapers,  ready 
to  be  sold  on  the  streets. 

Thus  the  paper  was  born.  The  day's  happenings  all 
over  the  globe,  civilized  and  savage,  disasters  on  sea 
and  land,  foreign  and  domestic  politics,  the  clash  of 
armies  and  the  movements  of  fleets,  the  encyclicals  of 
Popes  and  the  messages  of  Presidents  and  Kings,  re- 
ports of  stock  markets,  economic  troubles,  strikes, 
riots,  murders,  embezzlements,  railroad  accidents,  tri- 
umphs in  science  and  art,  arctic  explorations,  storms, 
convulsions  of  nature,  the  latest  doings  in  society,  lit- 
erature, the  drama,  music,  births,  marriages  and 
deaths — this  and  more,  the  world-history  of  the  hour, 
was  gathered  all  over  the  earth  at  a  fabulous  outlay 
of  money,  at  the  cost  of  great  physical  endurance, 
sometimes  at  the  price  of  life  itself,  and  given  to  the 
American  public  each  morning  for  the  contemptible 


168  THE    END    OF 

sum  of  one  cent — a  price  less  than  the  actual  cost  of 
the  blank  paper ! 


Utterly  exhausted  as  he  was  after  his  first  day's 
experience  as  reporter  on  a  metropolitan  newspaper, 
Roy  was  delighted  and  fascinated  by  everything  he 
saw,  and  as  he  stood  there  in  the  city  room,  a  silent 
spectator  of  the  busy  scene  around  him,  preparing  to 
go  home  to  Eunice,  he  congratulated  himself  on  being 
a  part,  if  only  an  insignificant  one,  of  so  tremendous 
a  machine.  The  power  of  the  press!  A  power,  he 
reflected,  sometimes  abused,  but  on  the  whole  exer- 
cised for  good  rather  than  for  evil.  The  world,  un- 
doubtedly, was  the  better  off  for  the  modern  news- 
paper. The  general  tone  of  the  American  press  was 
sane,  strong  and  honest.  The  American  newspapers 
which  counted  and  which  were  a  credit  to  the  country 
had  nothing  in  common  with  the  new  yellow  journal- 
ism, sprung  up  mushroom-wise  in  a  night  and  like 
some  foul,  luxuriant  growth  attempting  to  throttle 
the  sturdy  vine,  poisoning  the  mind  of  the  nation — 
dealing  in  muck,  revelling  in  crime,  preaching  anarchy, 
raking  up  nauseating  scandal.  Such  papers,  a  grow- 
ing and  dangerous  influence  among  the  lower  classes, 
were  a  burning  disgrace  to  American  civilization. 
The  trouble  with  many  papers,  even  decent  papers — 


THE   GAME  169 

was  that  they  were  merely  business  enterprises,  con- 
ducted with  the  sole  object  of  making  money,  not 
hesitating  to  print  advertisements  of  fraudulent 
quacks,  turf  sharps,  financial  swindlers,  moral  lepers, 
in  order  to  increase  their  profits.  The  ideal  would  b« 
an  endowed  newspaper — altruistic  and  non-partisan, 
conducted  in  the  best  interests  of  the  nation — a  paper 
which  would  present  all  the  news  worth  printing  in 
a  clean,  dignified  way,  which  would  consider  an  im- 
portant discovery  in  science  worth  more  space  than  a 
prize  fight,  which  would  be  strong  editorially,  neither 
flippant  nor  facetious,  possessed  of  the  courage  to 
flay  and  expose  rascality,  and  the  fair-mindedness  to 
encourage  merit,  and  which  in  its  comment  on  public 
affairs  and  in  its  criticisms  of  art,  literature  and  drama 
could  speak  with  the  wisdom  of  a  sage  and  the  author- 
ity of  an  expert.  Such  a  paper,  thought  Roy,  would 
count  its  readers  by  the  millions ! 

Roy  had  reported  for  duty  early  that  afternoon  and 
after  sitting  around  idly  for  nearly  two  hours  he  had 
been  called  to  the  city's  editor's  desk  and  given  a  small 
assignment.  A  prominent  financier  had  presented  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  with  some  valuable 
objets  d'art  and  he  was  told  to  go  and  get  the  story. 
He  felt  rather  nervous  about  it.  He  did  not  like  to  say 
that  he  did  not  know  where  to  go,  but  the  city  editor 
sized  him  up  for  a  greenhorn :  "  Go  up  to  the  museum 


170  THE   END  OF 

and  ask  for  Mr.  Chester.  He'll  fix  you,"  he  said  lacon- 
ically. 

So  Roy,  considerably  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  his  mission,  took  the  "  L  "  train  uptown.  He  won- 
dered if  the  people  in  the  car  took  him  for  a  reporter 
and  he  glanced  furtively  in  a  mirror  to  see  if  he  would 
recognize  himself  as  one.  Then  he  worried  about  the 
story.  Even  if  this  Mr.  Chester  told  him  the  story, 
would  he  be  able  to  write  an  intelligent  account  of  it? 
He  felt  that  his  whole  journalistic  career  depended  on 
this  interview  with  Mr.  Chester.  Then  he  thought  of 
Eunice.  He  felt  sorry  he  had  to  leave  her  alone,  and 
he  wondered  what  she  was  doing,  and  what  time  he 
could  get  back  to  her.  He  had  a  vague  idea  that  he 
would  not  get  back  to  the  boarding-house  for  dinner. 
He  was  practically  on  duty  till  midnight.  Dinners,  a 
fellow  reporter  told  him,  were  supposed  to  be  eaten 
while  on  assignments.  This  was  a  bad  beginning,  but 
he  could  not  expect  to  enjoy  the  usual  home  comforts 
when  engaged  in  such  strenuous  work  as  journalism. 

When  he  got  to  the  museum  he  found  other  re- 
porters had  arrived  before  him.  They,  also,  quickly 
scented  a  greenhorn,  and  seemed  to  hold  aloof  dis- 
dainfully. But  Mr.  Chester,  an  affable,  loquacious  old 
gentleman,  did  not  care  whether  a  man  was  a  green- 
horn or  a  veteran  so  long  as  he,  Chester,  got  his  name 
in  the  paper,  so  he  received  the  representative  of  the 
Owl  with  open  arms,  showed  him  the  objcts  d'art, 


THE   GAME  171 

wonderful  specimens  of  antique  worked  gold,  and 
filled  Roy  up  to  the  neck  with  an  erudite  description 
of  them.  Fearing  he  would  forget,  Roy  wrote  every- 
thing down,  seeing  which  his  journalistic  colleagues 
snickered.  But  when  Roy  looked  up,  angry  enough 
to  jump  up  and  thump  them,  they  pretended  to  be 
vastly  interested  in  Mr.  Chester's  remarkable  collec- 
tion. Roy  returned  to  the  Owl  office  and  for  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon  laboriously  prepared  his  "  copy." 
When  he  had  finished,  it  was  half-past  six.  He  took  it 
up  to  the  desk,  half  hoping  that  the  city  editor  would 
pass  on  it  there  and  then,  but  that  cynical  person  threw 
it  indifferently  on  to  a  heap  of  other  manuscripts,  and 
taking  a  card  from  his  desk  held  it  out  to  Roy  saying : 

"  Here,  Marshall,  there's  a  Jury  dinner  at  Delmon- 
ico's  to-night.  Get  all  the  names  you  can.  Keep  the 
speeches  down.  Begins  at  seven  sharp." 

Roy  took  the  card,  feeling  rather  crestfallen.  He 
had  secretly  hoped  he  would  get  a  chance  to  run  home, 
if  only  for  a  minute,  to  see  Eunice,  but  that  was 
plainly  impossible.  He  was  hungry,  too.  He  won- 
dered if  the  invitation  to  the  banquet  included  a  seat 
at  the  tables.  But  he  was  not  dressed.  That  was 
hardly  probable.  Anyhow,  he  did  not  care.  It  would 
be  a  novel  experience.  He  was  learning  the  business. 
When  he  got  to  Delmonico's  the  dinner  had  already 
started,  and  late  arrivals  were  hurrying  to  their  seats. 
A  head  waiter,  a  corpulent,  imposing  person  with  side 


172  THE   END   OF 

whiskers,  judging  by  the  absence  of  dress  suit  that 
Roy  was  a  reporter,  pointed  to  a  corner  near  the  speak- 
er's table  where  a  table  had  been  set  aside  for  the  use 
of  the  press. 

There  was  no  indication  that  there  would  be  any- 
thing more  toothsome  to  digest  than  words,  but  the 
dinner  committee  had  thoughtfully  provided  cigars 
and  a  quart  bottle  of  champagne.  It  was  not  their 
fault  if  the  reporters  had  been  sent  to  cover  the  story 
on  an  empty  stomach ;  they  had  other  things  to  worry 
about,  not  the  least  important  among  which  was  the 
eating  of  their  own  dinner.  While  the  banquet  was  in 
progress  and  while  waiting  for  the  speeches  Roy  em- 
ployed his  time  making  lists  of  those  present.  There 
was,  of  course,  a  dinner  chart  which  some  reporters 
copied  blindly,  not  taking  the  trouble  to  find  out  if 
the  persons  named  were  actually  present.  Roy  saw 
the  absurdity  of  this,  and  it  at  once  explained  to  him 
why  he  had  often  seen  mentioned  among  those  present 
men  who  he  knew  were  not  there  at  all.  Yet,  simple 
as  it  seemed,  it  was  really  difficult  to  make  an  accurate 
list.  Unless  one  knew  personally  by  sight  everybody 
there,  it  was  practically  impossible,  and  Roy,  not  being 
a  New  Yorker,  knew  nobody  by  sight.  He  had,  there- 
fore, to  either  depend  on  the  other  newspaper  men, 
who,  seeing  he  was  a  newcomer,  were  rather  inclined 
to  snub  him,  or  to  keep  bothering  the  dinner  committee 
with  questions.  The  police  commissioner  was  there, 


THE    GAME  173 

the  district  attorney  and  other  officials  with  whose  per- 
sonal appearance  Roy  was  familiar,  but  even  when  he 
heard  some  of  the  other  men's  names  he  did  not  know 
which  were  big  enough  to  mention  and  which  he  could 
afford  to  ignore.  So  he  got  all  he  could,  thinking 
rightly  that  the  copy  reader  would  blue-pencil  those  he 
did  not  want. 

Roy  was  surprised  to  note  that  he  was  the  only  one 
among  the  reporters  who  was  working.  His  col- 
leagues were  smoking,  drinking  and  cracking  jokes. 
The  solitary  bottle  of  champagne  had  been  succeeded 
by  half  a  dozen  others.  They  were  old  hands  and  this 
sort  of  an  assignment  was  child's  play  to  them.  They 
considered  it  a  snap.  They  knew  almost  every  man 
who  came  in  and  greeted  them  by  their  first  name. 
Hello,  Dick?  How  do,  Tom?  and  so  on,  until  Roy 
envied  them.  With  the  serving  of  the  coffee  the 
speeches  began,  and  Roy  worked  himself  into  a  fresh 
perspiration  with  the  tyro's  fear  that  he  might  fail  to 
record  some  remark  in  the  orator's  speech  which  was 
of  vital  interest  to  the  whole  nation.  So  he  wrote  and 
wrote  until  he  had  covered  fifty  sheets  of  copy  paper. 
When  he  stopped  from  sheer  exhaustion  he  saw  his 
colleagues  still  cracking  jokes  and  finishing  what  little 
was  left  of  the  champagne.  He  wondered  what  they 
had  come  for,  what  their  papers  would  do  without  the 
speeches.  He  did  not  then  know  that  a  speech  is 
written  afterwards  in  the  office,  on  a  few  key  words 


THE   END    OF 


furnished  by  the  speaker,  and  which  it  suffices  to  jot 
down  on  one's  cuff.  What  a  man  really  says  amounts 
to  very  little,  but  he  takes  several  thousand  words  to 
say  it  in.  After  the  principal  speakers  had  got  through, 
the  reporters  broke  camp  and  Roy  returned  to  the  Owl 
office  about  n  o'clock  just  when  the  night's  rush  was 
beginning.  He  went  to  the  night  desk  to  report : 

"  I  was  out  on  the  dinner  at  Delmonico's,"  he  said 
timidly. 

"  Anything  doing  ? "  inquired  the  editor  without 
looking  up. 

"  Yes — that  is — several  speeches.  The  police  com- 
missioner spoke.  He  said " 

"  Boil  it  down  to  half  a  column  and  rush  it.  Here's 
the  A.  P.  on  it,"  he  added  handing  over  the  Associated 
Press  flimsy. 

Glancing  at  it,  Roy  understood  now  why  his  col- 
leagues at  the  table  had  paid  so  little  attention  to  the 
proceedings.  The  A.  P.  had  covered  the  affair  con> 
pletely.  All  the  other  papers  had  to  do  was  to  paste 
the  flimsy  on  their  "  copy."  They  were  sent  up  to 
Delmonico's  only  to  give  an  original  twist  to  the  story, 
so  each  paper  would  not  read  exactly  alike.  But  even 
with  the  aid  of  the  A.  P.,  it  was  close  on  midnight 
when  Roy  had  his  story  in,  and  the  night  editor 
growled  something  about  his  being  to  blame  if  it  failed 
to  catch  the  first  edition.  Then  Roy  waited  round  un- 
til the  paper  came  down,  anxious  to  see  his  stories  in 


THE   GAME  175 

print  and  take  them  home  in  triumph  to  Eunice,  who 
would  sit  up  in  bed  and  express  admiring  wonder  at 
his  cleverness. 

Theoretically,  he  was  now  through  for  the  day. 
That  is  to  say,  he  was  entitled  to  get  "  Goodnight " 
from  the  desk  to  go  home.  But  in  practice,  a  news- 
paper man  is  never  through  as  long  as  he  hangs  round 
a  newspaper  office.  Roy  soon  learned  this  to  his  cost. 
He  was  putting  on  his  coat  when  the  night  city  editor 
called  him. 

"  Marshall !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  answered,  stepping  up  to  the  desk. 

The  editor  saw  Roy  was  about  to  go  home.  He 
knew  he  was  a  novice  and  probably  tired  out.  But  the 
newspaper  editor  never  lets  such  a  thing  as  consider- 
ation for  an  individual  stand  in  the  way  of  his  duty  to 
the  office.  If  he  does  not  consider  himself,  why  should 
he  consider  others?  So  his  face  was  expressionless 
and  unsympathetic  as  he  said: 

"  I'm  short-handed  to-night.  A  man  has  just 
dropped  dead  in  Brooklyn.  He  is  one  of  the  biggest 
men  in  the  woollen  trade.  Jump  over  there  and  see 
the  family.  The  coroner's  end  we'll  get  from  police 
headquarters.  His  name  is  Jones.  They  live  16  Pea- 
cock Street.  Telephone  the  story  in  directly  you  get 
it,  and  hustle!  If  you're  quick  we'll  catch  the  last 
edition." 

Roy  was  speechless.    He  could  scarcely  believe  his 


176  THE   END   OF 

ears.  He  had  been  working  without  a  break  since 
two  o'clock  without  a  thing  to  eat  except  a  sandwich 
hastily  devoured  on  the  way  to  Delmonico's.  He  was 
thoroughly  exhausted  and  ready  to  drop  with  sleep 
and  now  they  wanted  him  to  go  over  to  Brooklyn  and 
dig  up  a  coroner  case.  Brooklyn  of  all  places  on 
earth !  He  had  never  been  there,  but  he  had  heard  of 
its  terrors,  bewildering  maze  of  tortuous  streets, 
crooked  trolley  lines,  countless  churches  and  crowded 
cemeteries.  The  editor  talked  cheerfully  of  his  jump- 
ing over  there  as  if  Brooklyn  were  on  the  other  side 
of  the  street.  It  was  a  good  hour's  journey.  By  the 
time  he  had  found  the  house  and  aroused  the  family  it 
would  be  half-past  one.  How  on  earth  could  he  get 
back  in  time  with  the  story  to  catch  the  last  edition 
which  went  to  press  at  two  o'clock?  Oh,  yes,  he 
forgot  he  was  to  telephone  it  in.  Well,  there  was  no 
use  rebelling;  it  would  be  a  nice  thing  if  he  mutinied 
the  very  first  day.  So  all  he  said  was : 

"  All  right,  sir." 

And  he  went  wearily  out  into  the  night. 

It  was  very  cold  with  a  biting  northeast  wind  and 
the  snow  was  coming  down  thick.  The  weather  con- 
ditions were  anything  but  favorable  for  a  trip  across 
the  big  bridge,  but  Roy  buttoned  up  his  coat,  clinched 
his  teeth  and  made  for  the  nearest  "  L  "  station.  Al- 
though dead  tired  and  hungry  as  a  wolf,  he  was 
more  worried  about  Eunice  than  about  himself.  He 


THE   GAME  177 

knew  she  would  be  anxious,  probably  sitting  op  for 
him,  wondering  why  he  didn't  come,  fearing  all  kinds 
of  things.  He  rode  downtown  and  got  off  at  Park 
Place,  intending  to  cut  across  City  Hall  Park  and  take 
a  trolley  across  the  Bridge.  This,  he  knew  vaguely, 
was  the  conventional  way  to  Brooklyn.  Once  over 
there,  he  must  trust  to  luck  to  thread  his  way  through 
the  labyrinth  to  Peacock  street  He  cursed  Jones  for 
dropping  dead  and  wished  he  had  never  been  born. 
He  stopped  for  a  couple  of  minutes  at  a  lunch  counter 
to  swallow  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  soon  afterwards  found 
himself  at  the  Bridge  entrance.  He  asked  an  inspec- 
tor what  car  he  should  take  for  Peacock  street,  but  the 
man  shook  his  head.  He  had  never  heard  of  such  a 
street.  The  best  thing  he  could  do  was  to  take  the  first 
car  that  came  along  and  then  inquire  again  when  in 
Brooklyn.  Finally  after  changing  cars  about  half  a 
dozen  times  and  taxing  the  wits  of  four  times  that 
number  of  Brooklynites,  Roy  entered  Peacock  street, 
just  as  the  clock  in  a  neighboring  church  chimed  the 
lonely  hour  of  one. 

He  had  no  time  to  lose.  The  snow  was  coming 
down  thicker  all  the  time.  If  the  cars  got  tied  up,  he 
would  not  be  able  to  get  back  at  all,  and  then  Eunice 
would  be  seriously  alarmed.  After  much  groping  in 
the  dark  he  finally  located  the  house,  which  was  all 
in  darkness.  He  struck  a  match  to  make  sure.  Yes, 
there  v.as  the  sinister  crape  bow  on  the  door.  He  dis- 


178  THE   END    OF 

liked  to  ring  the  bell  and  disturb  people  at  such  an 
hour  and  for  a  moment  he  hesitated.  Suppose  he  went 
back  to  the  office  and  said  he  had  rung  but  no  one 
answered?  His  conscience  told  him  it  would  not  be 
true.  He  would  not  begin  his  journalistic  career  with 
a  lie.  He  had  a  duty  to  perform  and,  unpleasant  as  it 
was,  he  would  do  it.  He  rang.  A  dog  barked.  Roy 
winced.  He  was  sorry  there  was  a  dog.  The  beast 
might  take  him  for  a  burglar  and  spring  at  him.  It 
sounded  like  a  vicious  dog.  Once  more  he  felt  like 
beating  an  inglorious  retreat,  then  he  thought  how  he 
would  feel  if  the  other  papers  had  obituaries  of  Jones 
and  his  paper  hadn't — through  his  fault,  his  cow- 
ardice! Again  he  braced  up  courage  and  rang  a 
second  time.  The  dog  barked  furiously,  leaping  up 
inside,  eager  to  be  at  this  nocturnal  intruder  who  dis- 
turbed its  canine  rest.  Presently  a  head  appeared  at 
a  window  on  the  first  floor  and  asked  in  a  sleepy  voice, 

"Who's  there?" 

Roy  stepped  back  and  looked  up. 

"  Reporter  from  the  Owl"  he  answered.  "I 
want " 

"  Go  to  h-11 !  "  answered  the  voice  and  the  window 
slammed  to  again. 

Here  was  an  unforeseen  denouement.  Did  the  voice 
mean  that  he  should  go  to  a  certain  warm  climate  to 
find  out  all  about  the  defunct  Jones,  or  was  that 
merely  a  picturesque  figure  of  speech  to  express  in- 


THE    GAME  179 

dignation  at  being-  disturbed?  Then  Roy  began  to 
get  angry.  The  public  was  interested  in  Jones,  was 
entitled  to  know  how  and  why  Jones  had  gone  on  be- 
fore, and  it  was  the  duty  of  the  surviving,  if  not 
sorrowing  relatives  to  gratify  this  public  curiosity. 
The  man  at  the  window  was  simply  too  lazy  to  come 
down.  He  would  ring  again  and  perhaps  some  one 
else  would  come. 

The  wind  was  rising  to  the  proportions  of  a  blizzard, 
the  ground  was  now  thick  with  snow,  the  air  was 
cutting.  Roy  was  stiff  with  cold.  He  rang  again, 
savagely,  recklessly. 

The  dog  grew  frantic.  Once  more  the  window  up- 
stairs was  thrown  up  and  the  voice  cried  wrathfully. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  ringing  that  bell  ?  You'd 
better  quit  and  go  or  I'll  have  you  locked  up." 

"  I'm  from  the  Owl"  protested  Roy  meekly.  "  I 
came  for " 

"  I  don't  care  a  d — n  what  you  came  for,"  cried  the 
voice.  "  It's  an  outrage  to  be  ringing  decent  folk  out 
of  their  sleep  at  this  time  of  night.  Get  along  with 
you ! "  saying  which  he  again  slammed  the  window, 
while  the  dog  howled  with  chagrin  because  he  could 
not  reach  the  reporter's  calves. 

Roy  stood  transfixed.  He  was  not  going  to  get 
anything  there,  that  was  very  evident.  What  was  the 
matter  with  him?  Was  he  a  failure  as  a  newspaper 


i8o  THE   END    OF 

man  after  all?  Could  other  men  get  these  things 
When  he  failed? 

If  he  had  been  a  little  longer  in  the  business  he 
would  have  been  familiar  with  the  reportorial  trick 
that  is  usually  used  to  meet  this  situation.  When  the 
person  whose  peace  has  been  thus  rudely  disturbed 
refuses  to  talk,  the  world-wise  reporter  says: 

"It's  true  then?" 

"  What's  true  ?  "  growls  the  unsuspecting  relative. 

"  That  Brown  committed  suicide." 

"  What !  "  cries  the  relative. 

"  That's  the  story  which  reached  our  office,"  says 
the  reporter  calmly.  "  We  thought  you'd  like  to  deny 
it." 

The  scheme  works  like  a  charm.  The  relative 
rushes  downstairs,  opens  the  door  and  tells  the  reporter 
all  the  facts  he  wanted  to  know.  Of  course,  the  sui- 
cide existed  only  in  the  imagination  of  the  reporter, 
who  secures  without  further  ado  the  story  he  was 
after. 

But  Roy  was  not  familiar  with  this  trick.  He  only 
knew  he  had  failed  and  his  heart  quailed  as  he  saw 
a  mental  picture  of  the  Owl  office — that  uncompro- 
mising-looking editor  awaiting  his  return,  accepting  no 
excuses,  demanding  only  results,  the  presses  stopped, 
awaiting  his  article  that  didn't  come !  Good  God ! — 
not  getting  the  Jones  obituary  might  mean  an  enor- 
mous loss  to  the  circulation — even  the  ruin  of  the 


THE   GAME  181 

paper !  Cold  as  it  was,  he  broke  out  with  a  cold  per- 
spiration at  the  very  thought!  The  only  way  now 
was  to  get  to  the  nearest  telephone,  call  up  the  office 
and  ask  for  further  instructions.  But  where  could 
he  find  a  telephone  at  that  hour  in  the  wilderness? 
He  looked  around.  Coming  down  the  other  side  of 
the  street  was  a  policeman  swinging  his  night  stick 
and  eyeing  him  suspiciously.  Roy  welcomed  the 
officer  of  the  law  as  a  long-lost  friend.  Going  up  to 
him  he  said : 

"  Officer,  I'm  a  reporter  and  I  must  get  a  telephone 
at  once.  Can  you  tell  me  where  there  is  one  ?  " 

The  man  chuckled  at  the  absurdity  of  the  question. 

"  Telephone !  yer  won't  find  a  place  open  from  here 
to  the  Bridge.  If  you've  got  a  story  you'd  better  beat 
it.  It's  goin'  to  come  down  somethin'  fierce." 

He  walked  on,  leaving  Roy  floundering  in  the  ever- 
deepening  drifts  of  snow,  and  as  puzzled  as  ever.  But 
there  was  no  use  staying  there,  so  he  set  out  for  the 
Bridge,  following  the  trolley  tracks  where  the  walking 
was  easier,  as  one  follows  a  thread  out  of  a  labyrinth, 
and  before  long  he  came  to  a  saloon.  It  was  closed, 
but  through  the  window  he  saw  the  proprietor  count- 
ing up  the  night's  receipts.  He  tapped  at  the  window 
to  attract  his  attention.  The  man  looked  up  and 
thinking  it  was  a  holdup,  he  hastily  closed  the  money 
drawer  and  drew  a  revolver  from  his  pocket.  Roy 
shouted  to  him  through  the  glass: 


182  THE   END    OF 

"  I  want  to  use  the  telephone." 

"  Get  along,"  said  the  publican,  "  I'm  closed  for  the 
night." 

Roy  held  up  half  a  dollar. 

"  This  is  yours,"  he  said,  "  if  you'll  let  me  'phone 
my  paper.  I'm  a  reporter." 

The  publican  could  not  resist  the  half  dollar,  so  he 
unfastened  the  door  and  in  another  minute  Roy  had 
the  Owl  office  on  the  wire. 

"Hallo!  Hallo!  Owl  office?  Give  me  the  night 
city  desk." 

A  pause. 

"  Hallo!  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Gillis?  This  is  Marshall. 
I'm  over  here  in  Brooklyn.  Couldn't  get  anything 
about  Jones.  They  refused  to  open  the  door.  Told 
me  to  go  to  h — 11." 

The  reply  that  came  over  the  wire  sounded  to  the 
saloon  keeper  like  the  crackling  of  Chinese  fire- 
crackers. The  only  word  Roy  could  make  out  was: 
"  Rats !  "  Then  they  rang  off. 

He  felt  they  were  dissatisfied  with  his  efforts,  and 
his  heart  sank.  This  time  he  was  completely  discour- 
aged. But  he  gave  the  saloon  man  the  promised  half 
dollar  and  once  more  braved  the  storm.  It  was  no 
use  returning  to  the  office,  so  he  decided  to  go  straight 
home. 

Owing  to  a  tie-up  on  the  bridge  caused  by  the  snow, 
it  was  nearly  three  o'clock  when  he  reached  the 


THE    GAME  183 

boarding-house,  and  as  he  floundered  through  the 
drifts  to  reach  the  stoop,  he  caught  sight  of  Eunice, 
a  solitary  figure  in  white  anxiously  watching  for  him, 
frightened  almost  to  death. 

"  Roy,  Roy !  "  she  greeted  him  with  hysterical  joy, 
"where  have  you  been?  I  thought  I'd  never  see  you 
again ! " 

"  Out  for  the  paper,  of  course,"  he  answered,  and 
swallowing  greedily  the  glass  of  whiskey  and  soda  she 
poured  out  for  him. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  she  said.  "  How  do  you 
like  reporting?" 

"Oh,  it's  bully!" 

He  had  not  the  strength  to  say  any  more.  He  threw 
himself  on  the  bed  and  slept  like  a  log  until  one 
o'clock  next  day,  when  he  awoke  with  a  start,  and 
rushed  back  to  the  Owl  office  to  report  for  another 
trick  of  fourteen  hours ! 


1 84  THE    END    OF 


CHAPTER   III 

THE  cold,  uncomfortable  days  of  snow  and  sleet 
passed  quickly  by  and  once  more  balmy 
Spring  sat  in  the  lap  of  grim  Winter.  The 
nipping  frosts  and  damp  fogs  had  disappeared  and 
again  the  trees  and  verdure  in  Central  Park  and  other 
oases  of  the  big  city  put  on  their  attractive  mantle  of 
soothing,  refreshing  green. 

Roy  was  still  engaged  in  the  impossible  task  of  try- 
ing to  carve  a  fortune  out  of  journalism,  but  he  had 
never  succeeded  in  doing  more  than  make  both  ends 
meet.  He  had  left  the  Owl  some  time  ago,  under  cir- 
cumstances which  he  considered  most  unjust,  and  was 
now  on  the  reportorial  staff  of  the  Vulture,  one  of 
the  more  sensational  dailies. 

By  this  time  he  had  not  many  illusions  left  about 
metropolitan  journalism.  He  quickly  discovered  that 
it  was  no  profession  at  all,  but  rather  a  hand-to-mouth 
bohemian  kind  of  calling  which  anybody  could  take 
to,  and  for  which  no  special  qualifications  were  neces- 
sary. Unlike  the  law,  medicine,  surgery,  architecture, 
engineering  and  other  legitimate  professions,  which 
assured  a  fine  competency  for  a  man  who  practised 
them  successfully,  journalism  assured  nothing.  When 


THE    GAME  185 

the  journalist,  grown  old  in  harness,  worn  out,  ex- 
hausted, ceased  to  be  as  active  as  younger  men,  he 
was  quickly  supplanted  and  left  to  starve.  His  years 
of  brilliant  service  went  for  nothing.  He  had  nothing 
to  show  for  his  work.  The  lawyer  had  his  established 
clientele,  the  doctor  his  patients,  who  would  be  faith- 
ful to  him  till  he  died,  the  author  had  many  books 
earning  royalties,  but  the  journalist  had  nothing  but 
the  realization  of  a  wasted  life. 

Eunice  was  long  ago  convinced  that  Roy  was  using 
up  his  energy  uselessly  and  without  possibility  of  re- 
ward. The  wife's  instinct  worked  quicker  and  more 
accurately  in  this  instance  than  the  man's.  She  never 
stopped  urging  him  to  give  up  this  newspaper  life 
which  was  making  her  existence  even  more  lonely 
than  it  was  before  marriage.  Then,  at  least,  she  had 
an  occupation.  She  was  teaching  and  the  time  did 
not  hang  so  heavily  on  her  hands  as  it  did  now,  im- 
mured in  the  not  very  exhilarating  atmosphere  of  Mrs. 
Davis'  boarding-house.  There  was  nobody  in  the 
house  whom  she  cared  to  associate  with — at  most  she 
was  on  speaking  terms  with  the  boarders  at  the  table 
— and  so  for  the  greater  part  of  the  day  she  sat  alone 
in  their  small  room,  sewing,  reading  or  writing,  look- 
ing forward  to  the  evening  when  Roy  would  stay  a 
few  minutes  at  home.  Otherwise,  he  was  always  on 
the  go  and  out  every  night  on  assignments.  Once  a 
week  he  had  an  evening  off,  and  to  these  red  letter 


1 86  THE   END    OF 

nights  Eunice  looked  eagerly  forward.  They  would 
celebrate  the  occasion  by  dining  out,  patronizing  one 
of  the  numerous  cheap  Italian  restaurants  where  a 
bad  dinner  of  queer  dishes,  disguised  under  high- 
sounding  foreign  names  and  washed  down  by 
execrable  Chianti,  could  be  had  for  half  a  dollar.  But 
to  Eunice,  emancipated  for  the  moment  from  the  drab 
commonplaceness  of  the  boarding-house,  it  seemed 
like  a  Delmonico  banquet,  and  it  did  Roy  good  to  see 
her  rather  pale  and  mournful  face  light  up,  and  listen 
to  her  sensible  advice  and  cheerful  plans  for  the 
future. 

Roy  was  still  smarting  under  the  injustice  of  his 
dismissal  from  the  Owl.  He  had  been  called  one  day 
to  the  editor's  room  and  asked  to  get  up  a  special 
feature  for  the  Sunday  paper.  The  feature  had 
been  ordered  by  the  editor,  and  as  he  would 
receive  extra  pay  for  it  Roy  gladly  consented.  The 
story  was  about  a  certain  British  nobleman  who  had 
recently  been  expelled  from  his  London  clubs.  The 
story,  as  it  appeared,  was  in  no  sense  libellous,  being 
founded  strictly  on  facts  already  published,  but  un- 
fortunately the  said  nobleman  happened  to  be  a  close 
friend  of  the  proprietor  of  the  Owl.  The  latter  was 
incensed  at  the  publication  of  the  story  and  ordered 
the  instant  dismissal  of  the  man  who  had  written  it. 
Roy  was  therefore  notified  that  his  services  were  no 
longer  required.  He  protested  that  he  had  only  car- 


THE    GAME  187 

ried  out  orders  received  from  his  superior,  but  his 
protests  were  unheeded  and  he  was  discharged,  while 
the  editor,  whose  fertile  brain  had  conceived  the 
story  and  who  had  ordered  it  written,  remained  safely 
under  cover.  This,  he  heard  later,  was  only  one  of 
a  thousand  petty  injustices  done  in  newspaper  offices, 
and  the  millionaire  proprietors,  living  far  away  from 
the  scene  of  action,  were  often  not  to  blame,  the  facts 
having  been  misrepresented  to  them. 

Eunice  was  very  indignant  and  used  strong  argu- 
ments in  favor  of  her  husband  giving  up  newspaper 
work  altogether.  The  work  was  killing;  his  health 
would  suffer  sooner  or  later.  She  still  remembered 
what  Mr.  Winchell  had  said  about  Pittsburg,  and  the 
roseate  colors  in  which  he  had  painted  the  opportuni- 
ties there  awaiting  energetic  young  men.  It  seemed 
only  logical  that  there  must  be  greater  opportunity  in 
a  vast  enterprise  like  the  steel  business  than  in  running 
round  for  city  editors  like  a  superior  kind  of  mes- 
senger boy.  Certainly  they  must  decide  on  something. 
Their  funds  were  getting  alarmingly  low.  What  Roy 
had  been  earning  had  not  quite  covered  expenses 
and  their  wardrobes  needed  replenishing.  Although 
she  and  Roy  avoided  the  subject,  they  both  knew  that 
the  spectre  of  poverty  was  looking  them  in  the  face. 
Eunice  went  about  with  only  a  few  pennies  in  her 
purse,  and  Roy  himself  was  experiencing  something 
he  had  heretofore  never  known  in  his  life — the  ne- 


1 88  THE   END   OF 

cessity  of  turning  a  quarter  over  several  times  before 
deciding  to  spend  it. 

There  was  still  another  cause  to  give  Eunice  con- 
cern regarding  the  future  and  the  necessity  of  provid- 
ing for  emergencies.  And  this  cause,  at  the  same  time, 
stirred  her  breast  with  the  inexpressible  pride  and  joy 
the  young  wife  feels  when  she  first  realizes  that  she  is 
about  to  accomplish  the  highest  purpose  of  her 
womanhood.  For  some  weeks  it  had  gradually 
dawned  upon  her  that  she  was  enceinte.  At  first  the 
knowledge  of  her  condition  had  stunned  her  and  then, 
when  doubt  was  no  longer  possible,  she  was  filled  with 
awe.  Was  it  possible  that  in  her  poor  insignificant 
body  the  mystery  of  life  was  already  unfolding?  She 
did  not  stop  to  reflect  that  Nature  acts  blindly,  resist- 
lessly,  and  that  conception  and  birth  was  an  identical 
process  amid  the  splendors  of  royal  palace  or  the  un- 
speakable horrors  of  the  slums.  She  was  only  grate- 
ful that  Providence  had  granted  her  the  blessing  of  a 
child.  She  had  longed  for  maternity,  having  nothing 
but  contempt  for  those  women — negligent  of  their 
duty  to  the  State,  selfish  of  their  own  comfort — who 
wilfully  evade  the  responsibilities  of  motherhood. 
What  greater  joy,  thought  Eunice,  than  to  hear  the 
cooing  of  a  new-born  babe,  to  see  its  first  dimpled 
smile  of  recognition  and  know  it  is  your  own !  Under 
the  weight  of  the  impending  responsibility,  she  grew 
more  sedate,  more  pensive,  as  becomes  the  young 


THE    GAME  189 

matron  conscious  of  her  dignity,  and  a  new  light 
shone  in  her  eyes  which  until  now  had  smiled  only 
for  her  husband.  She  was  to  taste  a  holier  joy  than 
mere  carnal  passion.  She  was  to  experience  the  ex- 
quisite delight  of  nursing  her  own  child  at  her  breast. 

When,  with  womanly  confusion  and  modesty,  she 
first  revealed  the  news  to  Roy,  his  face  beamed  with 
satisfaction  and  pride.  He — a  father!  Just  think  of 
it !  How  pleased  his  mother  would  be  and  Grace !  He 
insisted  on  rushing  off  at  once  to  send  them  a  tele- 
gram, only  Eunice  restrained  him,  saying  that  it  was 
a  little  premature.  Clasping  his  wife  to  him  in  an  en- 
thusiastic embrace  intended  to  be  tender,  but  which 
from  sheer  excitement  was  exceedingly  rough,  he 
said: 

"  God  bless  and  preserve  you,  little  wife !  I  only  ask 
that  our  offspring  resemble  you — that  it  have  your 
virtues,  your  intelligence,  your  goodness  of  heart. 
You  have  indeed  told  me  good  news.  It  was  the  one 
thing  lacking  to  complete  our  happiness." 

She  smiled  at  him  and  then  said  gravely : 

"  But  it  isn't  only  joy,  you  know.  When  baby 
comes  we  must  be  prepared.  It  will  mean  a  lot  of 
expense  and  we  are  very  short  already.  Something 
must  be  done.  Don't  you  think  I'd  better  find  some 
pupils?  That  will  help." 

He  was  on  his  feet  in  a  moment,  his  eyes  flashing. 

"  Eunice — if  you  love  me,  don't  say  that  again. 


1 9o  THE   END    OF 

Don't  drive  me  desperate.  I  won't  hear  of  you  teach- 
ing or  doing  anything  else.  You  are  my  wife  and  if 
I  can't  afford  to  support  you,  why — I'll  go  and  drown 
myself  and  you  can  marry  someone  else." 

Eunice  had  already  put  her  arms  round  his  neck 
trying  to  pacify  him. 

"  Hush,  Roy,"  she  said  reprovingly.  "  It's  wicked 
of  you  to  talk  like  that,  especially  after  what  I  told 
you.  Of  course  if  you  don't  wish  it,  I  won't  teach, 
only  our  savings  are  fast  coming  to  an  end  and " 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  know — I  know.  Something  must  be 
done.  I  must  earn  more  money  or  else  we  must  go 
somewhere  where  it  costs  less  to  live.  I'm  about 
through  with  this  miserable  newspaper  life.  I  think 
I'll  go  down  and  see  Winchell  again  and  see  what  can 
be  done  about  that  Pittsburg  proposition.  Don't 
worry,  little  one,"  he  said,  kissing  her.  "  I'll  take  care 
of  you  and  baby." 

He  rushed  out  and  downtown  for  the  daily  grind, 
while  she  stayed  at  home  making  cute  little  garments 
for  the  expected  arrival.  At  the  Vulture  office  Roy 
found  an  assignment  awaiting  him. 

"Here,  Marshall,"  said  the  city  editor,  "there's  a 
deuce  of  a  row  over  at  the  Brotherly  Love.  Patient 
killed  by  a  nurse.  It  sounds  like  a  good  story.  Work 
it  up  for  all  it's  worth." 

Everything  that  suggests  murder,  crime,  or  violence 
of  any  description  is  "  a  good  story  "  to  a  city  editor. 


THE    GAME  191 

He  would  rather  have  a  good  murder  on  his  hands 
than  a  good  dinner. 

Roy  snatched  a  handful  of  "  copy  "  paper  from  a 
desk  and  went  out.  On  the  ride  uptown  he  met  a 
man  he  knew — Joe  Blake,  a  reporter  on  the  Scorpion, 
bound  on  the  same  mission.  He  was  white-haired, 
with  a  wizened  face — the  face  of  a  man  prematurely 
old.  He  had  been  reporting  for  twenty  years  and  was 
to-day  as  far  advanced  as  when  he  began  nearly  a 
quarter  of  a  century  ago. 

"  Well,  Marshall,"  inquired  his  friend,  "  how  do 
you  like  the  Vulture  office  after  the  Owl?" 

"  Oh,"  replied  Roy  in  a  disgusted  tone,  "  I  guess  it's 
a  case  of  frying  pan  into  the  fire.  I've  a  good  mind 
to  chuck  it,  and  get  into  something  else." 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  Blake  sympathizingly. 
"  I've  been  going  to  quit  for  years,  but  the  trouble  is 
I've  been  in  it  so  long  I'm  good  for  nothing  else.  Just 
imagine — I've  been  a  reporter  for  twenty  years,  and 
actually  I'm  getting  less  to-day  than  I  did  when  I 
began.  I'm  not  so  young  as  I  was,  so  they  don't  give 
me  the  best  assignments.  That's  how  a  newspaper 
rewards  a  man  for  getting  old  in  its  service.  But 
talking  of  heartless  employers,  did  you  hear  about 
Mills,  copy  reader  on  the  Scorpion?  " 

"  No,  what  was  it?  "  asked  Roy,  interested. 

"  Why,  the  most  cold-blooded  throwdown  I  ever 
heard.  Mills  has  been  on  the  Scorpion  for  twenty-five 


192  THE   END    OF 

years.  He  began  as  a  boy  and  to-day  his  hair  is  whiter 
than  mine,  and  his  face  furrowed  with  wrinkles. 
Twenty-five  years,  just  think  of  it!  In  all  that  time 
he  has  worked  like  a  horse  and  been  a  useful  man, 
yet  now  old  age  is  approaching  and  he  needs  money 
most,  his  salary  is  cut  down  $10  a  week  less.  Five 
years  ago  he  was  getting  $45.  Now  he  is  getting  $35. 
Why?  Search  me.  It's  simply  an  inexplicable  whim 
of  a  newspaper  owner  who  boasts  of  being  in  close 
touch  with  his  office  although  3,000  miles  away, 
whereas,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  has  no  idea  of  the 
injustices  done  in  his  name." 

"  But  what  about  the  new  trouble  ?  " 

"  Why,  it  appears  that  a  few  weeks  ago  they  got  a 
long  cable  from  Europe  in  which  a  Lady  Somebody 
was  mentioned.  In  one  place  in  the  despatch  she 
was  styled  '  lady/  in  another  just  plain  '  Mrs.'  In 
the  hurry  of  getting  the  '  stuff '  upstairs  Mills  let  the 
'  Mrs.'  go  through,  and  it  made  the  millionaire  pro- 
prietor so  mad  that  he  ordered  the  man  who  edited  it 
discharged.  As  if  a  reprimand  or  a  fine  were  not 
enough!  Poor  Mills  pleaded  long  service,  and  after 
much  deliberation  the  owner  magnanimously  con- 
sented to  let  him  go  on  working  for  him." 

"But  why  do  these  men  stand  for  such  treatment? 
Why  don't  they  go  elsewhere  ?  " 

"  It  sounds  easy,  but  it  isn't.  After  being  so  long  in 
one  office  they  come  to  think  that  it  is  the  only  place 


THE    GAME  193 

in  the  world  where  they  can  earn  a  living,  and  so  put 
up  with  all  kinds  of  humiliations  rather  than  resign." 

"  It's  a  rotten  business,"  acquiesced  Roy.  "  I'll  get 
out." 

"Yes,"  growled  Blake,  "there's  nothing  in  it.  If 
I'd  known  when  I  began  what  I  know  now  I'd  have 
jumped  into  the  river  first.  You  can  never  make  more 
than  enough  to  just  live  upon.  The  average  salary 
does  not  exceed  $35  a  week — the  wages  of  a  clerk. 
Even  the  crack  men,  the  reporters  who  get  good  space 
bills,  rarely  average  more  than  $4,000  a  year.  In  any 
other  business,  men  of  this  ability  and  energy  would 
be  making  $10,000  or  $15,000  a  year.  They  really 
don't  make  $4,000  a  year,  for  a  good  deal  has  to  go 
on  expenses  which  they  would  not  otherwise  incur. 
Newspaper  work  demands  the  energy  of  a  horse,  the 
wisdom  of  a  judge,  the  tact  of  a  diplomat,  and  a 
general  knowledge  of  men  and  affairs  that  in  any 
other  walk  of  life  would  assure  a  handsome  com- 
petence for  old  age,  but  the  newspaper  man  sacrifices 
the  best  years  of  his  life,  wears  out  his  vitality,  and 
when  the  best  in  him  is  gone,  he  is  thrown  pitilessly 
aside  as  a  back  number.  It  is  notorious  that  many 
newspaper  men  when  they  reach  old  age  are  practi- 
cally paupers." 

"  But  some  men  get  big  salaries,"  insisted  Roy. 
"  Look  at  Hinton  of  the  Vulture  who  gets  $50,000  and 
Wainwright  of  the  Owl  who  has  had  $20,000  for 


I94  THE  END   OF 

years.  Both  are  rich  men  to-day.  Can't  one  imitate 
their  example  ?  " 

"They  are  exceptions  that  prove  the  rule,"  replied 
Blake.  "  Hinton  is  an  exceptionally  clever  writer  who 
has  no  scruples  about  selling  his  brains  to  the  highest 
bidder.  Wainwright  is  an  entirely  different  kind  of 
man.  His  gift  is  not  writing,  but  organization.  He 
is  not  very  popular  with  the  men  because  it  is  well 
known  that  he  would  not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  his  best 
friend  to  further  his  own  interests,  but  the  owner  of 
the  paper  identifies  him  with  the  remarkable  success 
of  the  Owl  and  rewards  him  accordingly.  But  news- 
paper owners  are  fickle  and  no  one  knows  it  better  than 
these  men,  seemingly  so  secure.  They  say  Wain- 
wright never  receives  a  cable  message  without  ex- 
pecting to  find  in  it  a  demand  for  his  instant  resigna- 
tion. Men  who  earn  big  salaries  one  day,  men  whose 
names  are  spoken  of  with  bated  breath  in  newspaper- 
dom,  are  next  heard  of  living  in  Harlem  flats,  peddling 
out  Syndicate  letters." 

The  train  stopped  at  i8th  street  and  Roy  and  Blake 
got  out  and  proceeded  to  the  Hospital  of  Brotherly 
Love,  an  institution  supported  by  the  city,  and  much 
dreaded  by  the  destitute  poor.  The  assignment  they 
were  on  was  important  if  not  exactly  a  pleasant  one. 
A  male  nurse,  a  brutal  wretch  masquerading  in  the 
guise  of  an  Angel  of  Mercy,  had  beaten  a  patient 
until  he  had  died  from  his  injuries.  Such  assaults 


THE   GAME  195 

he  had  heard  were  of  common  occurrence  in  this 
particular  hospital  and  that  and  other  evils  had  made 
it  a  by-word  among  charitable  institutions.  If  rela- 
tives made  a  fuss,  there  was  an  investigation  which 
invariably  ended  in  a  general  whitewashing.  The 
present  case  was  particularly  revolting.  A  patient 
admitted  to  the  alcoholic  ward  in  perfect  health,  died 
mysteriously  on  the  second  day,  and  hurried  prepara- 
tions were  made  by  hospital  employes  for  his  burial. 
But  a  courageous  and  public-spirited  coroner,  whose 
suspicions  were  awakened,  insisted  that  the  man's 
neck  had  been  broken  by  violence.  The  expose 
caused  a  great  sensation  and  although  attempts  were 
made  to  belittle  the  charge  by  general  denials,  the  Com- 
missioner of  Public  Charities  ordered  a  searching  in- 
vestigation, and  as  a  result  several  of  the  nurses  were 
discharged  and  the  system  reorganized.  This  is  what 
had  taken  Roy  to  the  place. 

A  crowd  of  reporters  were  already  on  the  spot, 
buzzing  like  so  many  noisy  blue-bottles  round  such 
hospital  employes  as  would  consent  to  be  interviewed. 
They  besieged  the  dingy  office  just  inside  the  main  en- 
trance, clamoring  for  the  latest  details  of  the  scandal. 
The  hospital  building  itself  was  an  old-fashioned, 
gloomy-looking  place  with  an  atmosphere  smelling  of 
disinfectants  and  reeking  with  suggestions  of  secret 
tragedies  that  never  reached  the  public  ear,  of  sudden 
and  suspicious  deaths,  of  merciless  ante-mortem  oper- 


196  THE   END   OF 

ations  "  in  the  interest  of  science  "  on  helpless,  ex- 
piring paupers.  How  often,  wondered  Roy,  had  these 
grim,  forbidding-looking  walls  resounded  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  night  with  the  shrieks  of  the  tortured,  the 
death  rattle  of  the  dying?  On  either  side  of  the  main 
hall,  wide  stairways  gave  access  to  the  wards  above, 
and  every  now  and  then  a  female  nurse  in  attractive 
uniform,  or  a  house  surgeon,  attired  all  in  white,  his 
stethoscope  dangling  from  his  coat  pocket,  passed  up 
and  down. 

The  office  in  which  the  reporters  had  gathered  was 
divided  across  its  entire  length  by  a  barrier  behind 
which  were  half  a  dozen  surly  clerks.  All  round  the 
room  ran  greasy  benches  on  which  sat  forlorn-looking 
creatures,  come  either  to  visit  a  sick  relative  or  to 
claim  their  dead  and  rescue  a  kinsman  from  that 
supreme  horror — Potter's  Field!  The  clerks  scratch- 
ing away  at  their  desks  looked  weary  and  disgusted. 
Their  coarse,  cold  faces  reflected  their  unsympathetic 
natures.  Life  was  all  gray  to  them.  Daily  associa- 
tion with  hospital  routine  and  every  phase  of  human 
suffering  had  made  them  callous  and  indifferent.  It 
was  all  one  to  them  if  people  lived  or  died  as  long  as 
they  themselves  could  manage  to  get  three  meals  a 
day.  A  doctor  dropped  in  to  give  an  order  and  the 
waiting  reporters  immediately  pounced  on  him  and 
plied  him  with  embarrassing  questions.  He  was  in- 
different, like  the  rest,  cracking  jokes,  resenting  this 


THE    GAME  197 

intrusion  by  a  prying  public  into  the  private  affairs 
of  a  big  city  hospital.  What  business  was  it  of  the 
public  anyway?  Of  course,  the  stories  were  sensa- 
tional nonsense.  They  didn't  kill  people  at  the  Hos- 
pital of  Brotherly  Love.  It  would  be  too  much  like 
work. 

Anxious  to  follow  up  another  clue,  Roy  left  the 
main  building  and  proceeded  toward  the  Morgue,  a 
small  gray  stone  building,  of  peculiarly  sinister  ap- 
pearance, that  lay  at  the  other  end  of  the  grounds, 
near  the  river.  On  the  way  there  he  overtook  two 
young  men — mere  boys — who  were  carrying  some- 
thing on  a  stretcher.  The  "  thing  "  was  covered  with 
a  sheet.  There  was  nothing  to  tell  what  it  was,  but 
Roy  guessed  intuitively  and  a  cold  shiver  ran  down 
his  spine.  It  was  the  body  of  a  young  woman,  a  pa- 
tient who  had  just  died  in  one  of  the  wards,  and  the 
corpse  was  labelled :  "  Destitute.  No  friends."  The 
eyes  were  barely  closed;  the  flesh  was  scarcely 
cold.  They  wasted  no  time  at  the  hospital  of 
Brotherly  Love.  The  bed  occupied  by  the  dead  must 
be  hastily  vacated  to  make  room  for  the  living.  If  no 
troublesome  relatives  appeared  to  claim  the  body,  it 
was  laid  out  by  the  nurses  with  wonderful  dexterity 
and  despatch  and  hustled  off  to  the  Morgue,  where 
it  was  packed  in  a  coarse  deal  coffin  and  shipped  to 
Potter's  Field — the  common  burial  ground  of  the 
city's  dead,  the  Golgotha  of  human  degradation  and 


198  THE   END    OF 

despair,  the  Unspeakable  End,  where  man  thrusts  his 
fellow  into  a  hole  in  the  ground  like  so  much  carrion 
which  may  offend  his  nostrils. 

Impelled  more  by  curiosity  than  by  duty,  Roy  en- 
tered the  Morgue,  not  without  misgivings,  for  he 
dreaded  to  see  what  he  expected  to  find  there.  Inside 
was  a  large  hall  lined  on  all  sides  with  boxed  recep- 
tacles for  the  dead,  arranged  like  movable  shelves 
one  above  the  other  and  each  corpse  labelled  for  identi- 
fication, like  so  many  wax  dolls  in  a  toy  shop.  The  air 
was  considerably  colder  than  outside,  the  place  being 
kept  at  a  much  lower  temperature  in  order  to  retard 
decomposition. 

Instinctively  Roy  removed  his  hat.  A  sense  of  awe 
and  respect  came  over  him  as  he  realized  that  he  stood 
on  the  threshold  of  the  Unknown  and  that  he  was 
looking  on  those  who  had  gone  on  before,  and  had 
now  solved  the  Great  Mystery.  There  were  several 
men  and  boys  in  the  place  working  unconcernedly, 
whistling  and  jesting.  They  looked  amused  when 
Roy  uncovered,  taking  him  for  a  religious  "  guy," 
and  feeling  themselves  perfectly  comfortable  in  this 
charnel  house.  They  made  stupid,  jocular  remarks 
about  the  appearance  of  the  "  stiffs,"  which  they 
handled  with  indecent  familiarity,  as  if  it  never  oc- 
curred to  their  thick  understandings  that  it  might  be 
their  turn  to-morrow. 

Off  this  main  hall  was  a  small  office  where  two 


THE   GAME  199 

clerks,  writing  in  big  ledgers,  as  in  a  hotel,  kept  tally 
of  their  dead  guests.  The  sound  of  a  clicking  type- 
writer, the  intrusion  of  matter-of-fact  commercialism 
in  the  mansion  of  death,  struck  a  harsh,  incongruous 
note.  On  the  other  side  of  the  building,  and  visible 
from  the  office,  was  the  shipping  room  where  coffins 
of  all  sizes  lay  waiting  for  occupants. 

Roy  was  seized  with  horror.  He  felt  a  sensation 
of  nausea.  All  the  thoughts  concerning  the  fearful 
end  called  "  death,"  which  occur  to  most  men  and 
women  at  least  once  in  their  lives,  passed  through  his 
mind — the  last  illness,  the  falling  into  eternal  sleep, 
the  appearance  of  wax,  the  stiffening  of  the  body,  the 
flight  of  the  soul,  the  helpless  lump  of  inert  clay,  the 
tissue-destroying  chemical  change,  the  dreadful  proc- 
ess of  decomposition,  and  appalling  putrefaction  of 
what  had  once  been  tender,  living  flesh,  fair  to  look 
upon,  the  closing  up  in  a  narrow  box,  shutting  out 
from  the  world  forever  one  who  was  all  the  world 
to  us,  a  human  being  endowed  with  wonderful  facul- 
ties, able  to  think,  to  see,  to  walk,  to  speak,  and  now 
what? — an  inert,  unconscious  mass  of  nothingness 
which  men  thrust  hurriedly  out  of  sight  into  a  hole 
dug  in  the  ground,  amid  rites  believed  in  by  some, 
meaningless  for  others,  covered  with  damp  earth 
tramped  down  by  the  rough  boots  of  professional 
grave  diggers — glad  of  the  occasion  which  gives  them 
an  extra  glass  of  beer — the  rotting  of  the  coffin  in  the 


200  THE    END   OF 

clayey  soil,  the  intrusion  of  the  worms,  the  eating  of 
the  putrescent  flesh,  the  blanching  of  the  bones  I  Oh, 
the  hopeless  horror  of  it!  And  there  was  no  escape 
from  the  dreadful  fate — every  man  born  of  woman 
must  take  the  awful  journey ! 

While  Roy  was  getting  from  the  clerk  in  the  office 
the  data  he  wanted,  the  stretcher  bearers  he  had 
passed  in  the  grounds  had  entered  the  building  with 
their  grewsome  burden  and  were  already  in  the  ship- 
ping room,  engaged  noisily  in  selecting  a  coffin  of 
the  size  they  required.  They  whistled  cheerfully  as 
they  worked.  Roy  happened  to  glance  through  the 
open  door  and  what  he  saw  transfixed  him  to  the  spot. 
The  two  men  had  removed  the  body  from  the  stretcher 
and  were  placing  it  in  a  coffin.  The  body  was  that  of 
a  young  woman,  pretty  once  perhaps,  before  vice  and 
drink  had  made  her  what  she  was,  an  outcast  of  so- 
ciety, and  it  was  entirely  nude  except  for  a  sheet 
wrapped  loosely  round  it.  The  coffin  was  too  small 
and  the  men  swore  with  impatience  at  the  obstinacy 
of  the  body  in  refusing  to  go  in.  They  put  the  trunk 
and  head  in  first  and  then  tried  to  get  in  the  legs, 
but  they  were  half  an  inch  too  long  and  protruded  so 
it  was  impossible  to  close  down  the  lid.  Then,  one  of 
the  men,  growing  impatient,  jammed  the  lid  on,  and 
jumped  on  it  viciously.  There  was  a  crackling  noise, 
as  of  breaking  bones,  and  Roy  turned  away  faint  and 
sick  at  the  stomach.  He  had  had  enough.  He  rushed 


THE    GAME  20. 

out  of  the  foul  place,  fearing  to  breathe  any  longer  its 
poisoned  air.  That,  he  thought,  was  the  last  straw. 
He  could  not  stand  any  longer  an  occupation  which 
made  such  sights  possible. 

That  same  day  he  resigned  from  the  Vulture  and 
quit  journalism  for  good.  Eunice  was  delighted  and 
urged  him  at  once  to  see  his  friend  Winchell  who  had 
promised  the  letter  for  one  of  the  big  iron  people  in 
Pittsburg.  That,  certainly,  was  the  land  of  promise 
as  far  as  he,  Roy,  was  concerned.  Pittsburg,  the  city 
of  Steel ! 

The  following  morning  Roy  was  at  his  friend's 
office,  and  explained  the  situation. 

"  I'm  not  surprised,"  said  Winchell  sympathetically. 
"  Didn't  I  tell  you  it  was  a  dog's  life  ?  I  wouldn't  be 
surprised  if  you  did  exceeding  well  in  the  steel  bus- 
iness. It's  something  tangible — it's  big,  and  if  you 
make  good — why,  there's  a  fortune  in  it.  I'll  give  you 
the  warmest  kind  of  a  letter  to  Miller.  He  is  every- 
thing at  the  Excelsior  Steel  Works — next  man  in  im- 
portance to  Armstrong  himself — and  I  think  he'll  give 
you  at  least  a  show." 

Two  days  later  Eunice  and  Roy  said  good-by  to 
Mrs.  Davis  and  her  parrots,  and  they  left  New  York 
on  the  Pennsylvania  railroad  for  Pittsburg. 


202  THE   END   OF 


CHAPTER  IV 

PITTSBURG!  The  home  of  the  steel  men,  the 
stronghold  of  industrial  giants,  the  grimy, 
murky  city  of  fog,  smoke  and  flame,  where 
amid  the  ceaseless  roar  of  blazing  furnaces  and  the 
thunderous  pounding  of  titanic  machinery,  running 
night  and  day,  was  forged  the  wondrous  metal  which 
had  given  its  workers  possession  of  almost  fabulous 
wealth.  Pittsburg!  unique  and  progressive  city  of 
the  Ohio,  city  of  tremendous  energy  and  tremendous 
fortunes,  city  of  two  hundred  millionaires,  risen  from 
nothing,  their  colossal  wealth  acquired  in  a  night, 
astounding  the  entire  world  with  their  sudden  riches, 
which,  merely  at  their  bidding,  surged  up  about  them 
like  a  golden  flood.  Pittsburg!  with  its  historic  as- 
sociations of  the  Seven  Years'  War,  the  cradle  of 
Washington's  military  genius,  its  terrible  disasters,  its 
commercial  struggles  and  triumphs,  its  narrow, 
crooked  streets  and  forest  of  tall  factory  chimneys, 
its  cosmopolitan  population,  its  fine  public  buildings 
and  business  sky-scrapers,  all  smoke-stained  and 
soiled,  its  manufacturing  districts  marked  out  by  a 
thick  pall  of  smoke  by  day  and  by  lurid  fires  by  night, 
its  intricate  network  of  railroads,  its  graceful  suspen- 


THE    GAME  203 

sion  bridges  and  viaducts  spanning  two  noble  rivers 
crowded  with  vast  fleets  of  ore  and  coal-laden  vessels, 
its  fine  shops  and  handsome  theatres,  its  inclined 
trolley  lines  giving  access  to  the  hills  on  the  east 
side  and  the  rolling  country  beyond  the  slope,  where 
the  money  kings  built  their  palatial  homes. 

This  was  the  city  of  good  hope  to  which  Roy  and 
his  wife  now  resolutely  turned  their  faces.  Eunice 
had  only  the  vaguest  ideas  regarding  the  steel  indus- 
try. She  knew,  of  course,  in  a  general  kind  of  way 
that  steel  was  an  indispensable  metal,  the  very  back- 
bone of  modern  civilization,  providing  steel  rails  for 
railroads,  steel  girders  for  bridges,  structural  steel 
for  sky-scrapers,  armor  plate  for  battleships.  She 
was  also  well  aware  that  the  men  engaged  in  its 
manufacture  were  acquiring  great  wealth  with  start- 
ling rapidity.  If  Roy  could  get  into  the  steel  busi- 
ness and  make  a  success  of  it  there  was  no  reason 
why  he,  too,  should  not  one  day  be  a  millionaire.  Not 
that  she  desired  great  wealth  either  for  herself  or  him. 
Her  tastes  were  far  from  being  extravagant  and  her 
wants  were  few.  Her  past  experiences  in  life  had 
taught  her  not  to  crave  for  things  which  she  could 
not  afford.  She  would  always  be  content  with  enough 
to  support  them  modestly  and  comfortably  in  the  style 
of  living  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed.  If,  she 
thought,  they  could  afford  to  rent  a  little  house  in  the 
suburbs  of  Pittsburg,  within  easy  distance  of  the  steel 


204  THE   END    OF 

works,  so  it  would  not  be  too  far  for  Roy,  with  a 
little  garden  in  which  she  could  grow  vegetables  and 
flowers;  if  she  had  a  girl  to  do  the  rough  work,  and 
a  piano  and  all  the  books  she  wanted,  and  two  dresses 
a  year;  if  with  these  she  could  have  plenty  of  Roy's 
companionship,  she  would  be  supremely  happy.  She 
could  hardly  imagine  an  existence  more  enviable. 
And  when  her  baby  came  her  joy  would  be  even 
more  complete.  She  did  not  know  what  Roy  could 
expect  to  earn  at  the  steel  works.  He  did  not  know 
himself.  Probably  not  much  at  first.  If  they  were 
not  able  to  afford  everything,  they  could  cut  out  the 
servant  and  the  piano.  But  she  would  insist  on  the 
little  garden  and  the  books,  even  if  she  had  to  work 
for  them  herself. 

With  these  simple  wants  gratified,  and  given  the 
blessing  of  good  health  for  herself  and  husband, 
Eunice  foresaw  a  happy,  almost  ideal,  life  before 
them  both.  She  had  often  wondered  why  one  heard 
so  much  about  marriage  being  a  failure.  It  was  true 
that  many  marriages  turned  out  unhappily,  but  the 
number  was  small  in  proportion  to  the  immense  popu- 
lation. The  discontents  were  in  a  small  minority. 
The  average  marriage  was  a  success,  giving  new 
generations  to  posterity,  creating  cheerful  homes, 
made  sunny  with  the  laughter  of  romping  children. 
If  this  were  not  the  case,  if  marriage  were  indeed  a 
failure,  it  would  disappear  from  our  institutions,  to 


THE   GAME  205 

be  succeeded  by  some  better  plan.  But  so  far  man 
had  devised  no  system  so  well  suited  to  his  civilization, 
to  his  health,  to  his  morals,  as  monogamy.  All  the 
wild,  foolish  talk  about  trial  marriages  which,  for  the 
sake  of  her  sex,  she  was  sorry  to  see  a  woman  had 
advocated,  was  the  idle  vaporings  of  ill-balanced  minds, 
warped  judgments,  seekers  after  notoriety.  The  sug- 
gestion was  particularly  odious  in  that  it  was  almost 
a  plea  for  free  love,  with  its  deadly  menace  to  the 
integrity  of  the  family  and  the  wrong  inflicted  on 
helpless  offspring.  The  State  should  regulate  mar- 
riages— that  Eunice  firmly  believed.  It  was  criminal 
to  allow  consumptives  and  chronic  drunkards  to  marry 
and  reproduce  their  kind.  A  paternal  state  should 
supervise  marriages,  just  as  it  should  have  some  con- 
trol over  divorces.  The  present  divorce  laws  were 
scandalous.  Why  what  was  unlawful  in  New  York 
should  be  permitted  in  Dakota,  when  it  concerned 
the  welfare  of  the  whole  nation,  she  had  never  been 
able  to  understand.  Lax  divorce  laws,  permitting 
loosely  tied  marriages  to  be  untied  with  absurd  fa- 
cility, were  a  peril  to  the  stability  of  the  State.  But 
in  spite  of  its  divorces,  marriage  still  flourished  in  the 
country  at  large  as  a  sturdy  and  popular  institution. 
Unhappy  marriages  were  usually  to  be  found  in  the 
big  cities  where  the  people  were  corrupt,  where  the 
moral  standard  was  low,  where  mothers  evaded  the 
responsibility  of  motherhood  because  it  interfered 


206  THE    END    OF 

with  their  social  pleasures,  where  marital  infidelity  was 
regarded  as  a  joke,  where  the  sacredness  of  the 
family  circle  was  derided.  Was  it  a  wonder  that 
marriage  failed  to  be  fruitful  in  such  sterile  soil  ?  For 
happy  marriages,  for  happy  family  life,  one  must 
look  not  in  the  big  cities,  which  were  corrupt  to  the 
core,  but  in  the  millions  of  little  homes  scattered  over 
the  broad  bosom  of  the  land,  the  attractive  home  in 
suburb  and  country  of  artisan  and  merchant,  the  wife 
and  children  eagerly  watching  at  evening  for  the 
homecoming  of  the  bread-winner.  Some  men  and 
women  do  not  find  happiness  in  marriage,  because 
they  do  not  seek  it,  because  instead  of  looking  for 
it  at  their  fireside,  in  the  circle  of  their  own  flesh  and 
blood,  they  go  elsewhere,  running  after  the  empty 
shadow,  seeking  riches,  filled  with  social  ambitions, 
striving  to  outdo  their  neighbors  in  dress  and  show. 
Many  marriages  were  unhappy  because  of  the  ease 
with  which  divorce  was  obtainable.  Men  and  women 
often  entered  carelessly  into  sacred  marital  ties,  be- 
cause they  knew  that  the  bonds  could  be  easily  broken. 
This  was  especially  true  of  the  richer  classes,  who 
usually  marry  for  self-interest.  It  was  only  the 
matches  that  were  made  in  Heaven  that  endured,  and 
to  this  category  her  own  union  with  Roy  certainly 
belonged. 

All  this  was  passing  now  through  her  mind  as, 
seated  with  Roy  in  the  train  which  was  whirling  to- 


THE    GAME  207 

ward  the  Smoky  City,  she  weaved  her  day-dreams 
in  the  loom  of  life. 

Both  were  silent,  busy  with  their  thoughts.  Roy 
was  recalling  once  more  his  father's  parting  words, 
"  You  won't  find  it  so  easy !  "  He  was  right.  It 
wasn't  so  easy — at  least  it  hadn't  proved  so  thus  far. 
His  journalistic  experiment  was  a  wretched  failure — 
sad  waste  of  time  and  energy.  Would  he  be  more 
successful  in  Pittsburg?  Or  would  he  fail  in  every- 
thing? The  thought  maddened  him,  and  as  he  felt 
Eunice's  form  nestling  against  him  he  asked  himself 
by  what  right  he  had  invited  this  girl  to  share  the 
uncertainties  of  his  career.  Why  hadn't  he  tried  first 
what  he  could  do?  After  paying  the  fare  to  Pitts- 
burg  they  had  just  ninety-two  dollars  and  fifty  cents 
left — all  they  had  in  the  world!  If  he  failed  to  get 
something  to  do — what?  He  certainly  could  never 
go  back  and  confess  defeat.  He  was  too  proud  for 
that.  But  Eunice  should  not  suffer.  He  would  pre- 
vail on  her  to  leave  him — temporarily  at  least — and 
go  on  teaching  while  he  made  another  effort  to  get 
along.  There  was  no  telling  where  it  might  end. 
Perhaps  he  had  over-estimated  his  ability;  he  might 
be  incapable  of  earning  a  dollar.  Then  what  could 
he  do — enlist  in  the  army,  beg  his  bread  or  throw 
himself  into  the  river?  The  mental  strain  he  was 
under  caused  his  grip  to  mechanically  tighten  on 
Eunice's  hand,  which  was  lying  in  his.  She  quickly 


208  THE    END    OF 

looked  up,  and  at  once  noticed  his  worried  expres- 
sion. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear  ?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  he  replied  evasively,  turning  to 
watch  the  flying  landscape  as  the  train  sped  on  toward 
the  West. 

"  Yes,  there  is,"  she  insisted.  "  I  know  there  is. 
You  are  worrying." 

"  Well,"  he  stammered,  "  naturally  I'm  a  little  ner- 
vous. I  don't  know  where  we  are  going  nor  what 
the  outcome  will  be.  There  may  be  nothing  there 
for  me  after  all.  The  work  may  not  suit  me.  We 
can't  afford  to  experiment  very  long,"  he  added  gloom- 
ily. 

Half  turning  in  her  seat,  Eunice  clasped  both  his 
hands  in  hers. 

"  Don't  talk  that  way,  Roy,"  she  said  earnestly. 
"  Something  tells  me  that  Providence  is  directing  your 
steps  to  Pittsburg.  You  made  a  failure  of  journalism. 
Why?  Because  you  had  no  real  sympathy  for  it. 
It  did  not  interest  you.  Your  heart  was  not  in  it. 
With  this  new  business  it  will  be  quite  different.  In 
the  busy  steel  works,  amid  the  roar  of  the  furnaces 
and  the  whirl  of  machinery  you  will  be  at  home.  You 
have  a  talent  for  mechanics — your  natural  tastes  al- 
ways ran  that  way.  The  steel  men  will  soon  dis- 
cover your  value.  Opportunity  will  soon  develop  the 
genius  that  lies  latent  within  you,  and  step  by  step 


THE    GAME  209 

you  will  rise  to  the  top.  I  feel  that  you  will  make 
a  great  success  of  it,  Roy,  really  I  do ! " 

Her  face  was  glowing  with  enthusiasm,  her  eyes 
sparkled  hopefully  and  her  words  vibrated  with  the 
convincing  accents  of  prophecy.  Roy  smiled.  He 
felt  encouraged.  If  he  had  not  been  ashamed  he 
would  have  kissed  her  before  the  whole  earful  of 
people.  What  she  said  was  true.  He  certainly  was 
more  interested  in  machinery  than  in  tramping  through 
Brooklyn  for  obituaries.  He  felt  that  if  once  he  were 
given  the  right  opportunity  he  would  astonish  people. 

Then  they  talked  about  the  city  they  were  going  to, 
and  the  wonders  of  the  vast  steel  industry.  Eunice 
wanted  to  know  all  about  it — its  history,  its  process. 
Roy  gave  her  as  good  an  account  as  his  slim  knowl- 
edge of  the  subject  permitted. 

The  steel  business  was  practically  an  infant  indus- 
try in  America,  having  received  its  present  enormous 
impetus  only  since  the  Civil  War,  yet,  young  as  it  was, 
its  importance  now  staggered  the  world.  This  was 
due  largely  to  the  recent  discoveries  of  vast  ore  de- 
posits in  the  Far  West,  but  chiefly  to  the  phenomenal 
growth  and  prosperity  of  the  country.  After  the  war 
a  great  steel  boom  set  in.  Railroads,  shipwrights, 
builders  demanded  a  metal  tougher  and  more  durable 
than  iron  and  yet  cheaper  than  steel,  the  cost  of  which 
was  prohibitive.  A  large  fortune  awaited  the  man 
who  could  make  a  cheap  steel,  and,  strange  to  say, 


210  THE   END   OF 

two  men,  one  an  Irish-American  the  other  a  French- 
Englishman,  hit  almost  simultaneously  upon  the  so- 
called  "  Bessemer "  process.  William  Kelley  of 
Pittsburg  is  credited  with  having  discovered  it  first, 
while  Henry  Bessemer  of  England  succeeded  in  se- 
curing the  patents  and  in  immortalizing  his  name. 

The  story  goes  that  Kelley  hit  upon  it  by  accident 
one  day  while  watching  his  refinery  fire,  just  as,  some 
years  previous,  George  Stephenson  had  discovered  the 
principle  of  the  steam  engine  by  watching  a  kettle 
boil.  Kelley  noticed  a  white  spot  in  the  yellow  molten 
metal  at  a  point  where  it  met  a  blast  of  cool  air.  He 
was  astonished,  for  according  to  all  current  notions 
the  hot  metal  should  be  chilled  by  the  contact  of  the 
air.  But  Kelley  happened  to  be  somewhat  of  a  chem- 
ist. He  understood  the  peculiar  relations  of  carbon 
and  oxygen,  and  after  a  moment's  reflection  he  jumped 
to  his  feet,  confident  that  he  made  a  great  discovery. 
He  was  laughed  at,  but  he  went  to  work  to  make 
his  tilting  converter,  which  was  the  first  model  of 
the  hundred  Bessemer  converters  now  in  use  in 
America. 

"  I  saw  one  of  these  converters  at  work  the  last 
time  I  was  in  Pittsburg,"  added  Roy.  "  It  was  a 
magnificent  sight — just  like  seeing  Vesuvius  in  full 
eruption.  I'll  take  you  to  see  it." 

"  How  interesting  it  all  is ! "  murmured  Eunice, 
rather  sleepily.  Her  head  was  resting  comfortably 


THE    GAME  211 

on  her  husband's  shoulder,  and  as  he  talked  on  she 
listened  dreamily,  wondering  if  he  would  one  day 
make  a  great  name  like  the  famous  men  he  spoke 
about.  She  felt  tired,  and  it  felt  good  to  lie  nestled 
there.  No  matter  what  the  future  had  in  store,  they 
had  each  other.  No  one  could  take  her  husband  from 
her,  and  soon,  she  reflected,  there  would  be  another 
to  love.  That  event  was  not  so  far  away  now.  It 
would  be  all  they  could  do  to  get  nicely  settled  before 
baby  came.  Pleased  to  find  Eunice  such  a  good*  list- 
ener, Roy  continued. 

The  steel  men  now  had  a  process  for  making  cheap 
steel,  but  the  business  could  never  grow  to  large  pro- 
portions unless  there  was  more  ore  available.  Penn- 
sylvania and  New  York  up  to  this  time  had  furnished 
most  of  the  ore,  but  the  supply  did  not  meet  the 
demand. 

Then  suddenly  came  the  sensational  discoveries  of 
vast  ore  deposits  in  the  Far  West.  In  a  wilderness 
on  Lake  Superior,  a  roaming  band  of  Indians  offered 
to  show  a  sceptical  American  a  mountain  of  solid 
iron.  He  allowed  himself  to  be  led,  and  after  jour- 
neying a  few  days  they  came  to  a  mountain  composed 
entirely  of  solid  ore,  which  glistened  in  the  sun  like 
polished  metal.  This  and  later  discoveries  of  ore 
fields  in  Michigan  and  Wisconsin  made  the  United 
States  the  biggest  producer  of  steel  in  the  world. 

Steel  now  began  to  attract  general  attention  to 


212  THE   END    OF 

Pittsburg.  The  enormous  possibilities  of  the  industry, 
with  its  golden  vision  of  fabulous  profits,  appealed 
forcibly  to  the  most  powerful  financiers  in  the  coun- 
try. Capital  poured  in  on  all  sides.  Companies  were 
quickly  organized,  works  were  built  and  furnaces 
lighted,  each  in  violent  competition,  catering  to  the 
world's  trade,  cutting  one  another's  throats,  working 
night  and  day  in  a  frenzied  race  to  beat  the  record 
in  the  output  of  manufactured  metal. 

Out  of  this  fierce  rivalry  arose  a  man  who  by  the 
sheer  force  of  his  gift  for  organization,  his  genius  for 
managing  men,  soon  dominated  the  situation.  John 
Armstrong,  the  Steel  King,  whose  personal  fortune, 
already  estimated  at  $200,000,000,  was  all  earned  in 
the  steel  business,  was  an  organizer  of  victory,  a  born 
captain  of  industry.  Beating  his  competitors  at  their 
own  game,  he  had  succeeded  in  defeating  all  the  com- 
binations formed  to  crush  him,  he  had  out-generalled 
and  terrorized  his  business  rivals,  and  to-day  was  the 
most  successful  steel  maker  in  America.  Armstrong's 
career,  continued  Roy,  was  an  encouragement  to  any 
one  as  showing  how  successful  a  man  could  be  even 
in  a  business  he  knew  nothing  of.  He  had  started 
life  as  a  commercial  drummer,  and  it  was  by  the  purest 
accident  that  he  went  into  steel.  One  day  while  on 
a  visit  to  Pittsburg  he  visited  one  of  the  plants  and 
saw  a  Bessemer  converter  in  full  blast.  The  grandeur 
of  the  spectacle  so  impressed  him  that  he  resolved  to 


THE    GAME  213 

devote  all  his  energy  and  time  forthwith  to  steel  mak- 
ing. With  a  few  thousand  dollars  thriftily  saved  he 
organized  a  company,  which  failed.  On  its  ruins  he 
formed  the  Excelsior  Steel  Company,  with  larger 
capital  and  with  improved  machinery.  This  proved  a 
success  from  the  start,  and  the  results  astounded  the 
world.  The  average  output  of  a  furnace  then  was 
a  hundred  tons  of  steel  a  day,  but  soon  the  Arm- 
strong company  was  turning  out  over  four  hundred 
tons  a  day. 

John  Armstrong  had  been  lucky  in  securing 
for  superintendent  Jake  Smith,  a*  prodigy  in  getting 
results,  and  the  pace  he  set  was  terrific,  the  plants 
working  feverishly  night  and  day.  Armstrong's  own 
cleverness  in  obtaining  orders  from  governments, 
railroads  and  contractors  did  the  rest.  Orders  poured 
in  from  all  corners  of  the  globe,  the  business  trebled 
that  of  any  three  other  plants  in  America  and  soon 
a  steady  stream  of  gold  was  flowing  into  the  com- 
pany's coffers.  In  a  few  years  the  delighted  partners 
were  millionaires.  But  although  Armstrong  had  shown 
that  steel  making  was  the  greatest  money-making 
business  on  earth,  still  he  was  not  satisfied.  He  had 
all  the  orders  he  could  attend  to,  he  was  enjoying  an 
enormous  annual  income,  which  had  already  made 
him  one  of  the  richest  men  of  his  day,  but  still  he  was 
not  content.  He  wanted  power.  He  would  not  rest 
till  he  had  crushed  out  of  existence  or  absorbed  every 


214  THE   END    OF 

other  steel  plant  in  America,  and  with  that  object  in 
view  he  sat  down  before  the  gates  of  the  other  im- 
portant steel  companies  like  a  victorious  general  in- 
vesting a  hostile  city.  The  steel  war  was  now  on.  His 
competitors  defied  him,  but  he  would  prove  more  than 
a  match  for  them. 

"  If,"  added  Roy,  "  I  am  lucky  enough  to  attract 
the  attention  of  Mr.  Armstrong,  my  fortune  is  made. 
They  say  that  any  of  his  workmen  he  takes  a  fancy 
to  he  makes  a  partner.  Nearly  all  his  present  part- 
ners have  risen  from  the  ranks.  Mr.  Brent,  the  present 
vice-president  of  the  company,  used  to  work  at  the 
furnaces  in  overalls.  So  you  see,  dear,  there  may  be 
a  chance  for  me." 

Eunice  remained  silent  for  a  moment,  as  if  she  were 
thinking  intently.  Then  turning  solemnly  to  Roy,  she 
said: 

"  Roy,  do  you  know,  something  tells  me  that  you 
will  be  like  that  man  in  the  overalls.  You  will  go 
even  higher.  You  may  even  be  president." 

She  smiled  up  at  him.  He  gave  a  furtive  look  round 
the  car  to  see  if  any  one  was  watching,  then  he  bent 
his  head  and  kissed  her. 


THE   GAME  215 


CHAPTER  V 

ON  their  arrival  in  the  Smoky  City  they  took 
a  room  temporarily  at  a  cheap  hotel  in  the 
centre  of  the  town,  from  the  windows  of 
which,  at  night,  they  could  see  the  leaping  flames  of 
the  distant  ceaseless  fires.  Eunice  sensibly  argued 
that  it  was  useless  to  decide  upon  any  permanent 
location  until  Roy  found  out  what  he  could  do  with 
the  steel  people.  If  he  was  successful  in  getting  a 
position  they  would  take  a  little  house. 

So  early  the  next  day  Roy  proceeded  to  the  offices 
of  the  Excelsior  Steel  Company.  It  was  a  large,  im- 
posing-looking place,  occupying  an  entire  floor  of 
one  of  the  big  skyscrapers  and  arranged  like  a  bank, 
most  of  the  space  being  taken  up  by  huge  safes  and 
the  desks  of  the  clerical  force,  while  visitors  had  to 
transact  through  little  windows  whatever  business 
brought  them  there.  Producing  the  letter  which  his 
friend  Winchell  had  given  him,  Roy  inquired  for  Mr. 
Miller. 

"  He's  in  New  York.  Won't  be  back  till  Monday," 
replied  a  clerk,  hardly  deigning  to  as  much  as  glance 
at  the  questioner. 

Roy's  face  fell.    Here  was  a  serious  setback.    Every 


216  THE   END    OF 

moment  now  was  precious.  Waiting  till  Monday 
meant  four  days'  forced  idleness  and  more  uncertainty 
and  worry.  Besides,  their  funds  were  fast  going. 
However,  there  was  no  help  for  it.  He  would  have 
to  wait  until  Mr.  Miller  came  back.  He  returned  to 
the  hotel  in  anything  but  an  amiable  frame  of  mind. 

But  Eunice  took  the  disappointment  good-naturedly. 
One  of  the  rules  of  life  she  had  adopted  was  never 
to  fret  over  anything  she  could  not  help,  and  thus  she 
spared  herself  many  heartburnings.  She  was  always 
cheerful  under  the  most  trying  circumstances.  Periods 
of  discouragement  come  to  every  one  at.  times,  and 
Roy  had  not  been  exempt  from  spells  of  depression, 
especially  during  his  harrowing  newspaper  experi- 
ences in  New  York,  but  his  wife's  sunny  disposition 
never  failed  to  dispel  the  cloud  and  spur  Roy  on  to 
renewed  effort.  He  realized  this,  and  while  secretly 
he  turned  to  her  for  comfort  and  advice  when  wor- 
ried, openly  he  professed  to  be  exasperated  at  her 
serene  optimism.  Himself  of  a  nervous,  worrying 
disposition,  it  sometimes  irritated  him  to  see  her  so 
calm  and  unperturbed. 

"  I  wish  I  had  your  nature ! "  he  blurted  out,  as 
they  were  sitting  in  their  room  at  the  hotel.  He  felt 
a  sense  of  personal  injury  because  his  wife  took  Mr. 
Miller's  absence  so  calmly.  Eunice  was  busy  with 
her  needle,  making  diminutive  garments  for  their 
expected  guest,  and  she  looked  up  at  him  and  smiled. 


THE    GAME  217 

"  Yes,"  he  added  petulantly,  "  I  mean  it.  You  never 
seem  to  care  one  way  or  the  other.  Nothing  upsets 
you.  You  never  worry.  I  sometimes  think  you  don't 
care.  Surely  you  appreciate  the  seriousness  of  our 
position  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  do,"  she  replied,  with  a  reproachful 
look  that  made  him  sorry  he  spoke.  "  But  why  should 
we  worry  ?  It  won't  do  a  bit  of  good.  Besides,  these 
little  difficulties  that  confront  us  now  are  really  not 
so  very  serious.  While  we  have  youth  and  health  it 
is  wicked  to  allow  oneself  to  be  discouraged.  When 
real  sorrows  come — great  sorrows  like  those  I  have 
known  in  my  life — then  one  may  worry  and  grieve, 
but  our  little  troubles  are  really  nothing,  Roy,  dear. 
We  must  have  patience.  I  am  patient.  You  must  be 
patient." 

He  knew  she  was  right,  as  she  always  was.  If  she 
were  as  he  was,  ready  to  turn  back  at  the  first  ob- 
stacle, she  would  have  discouraged  him  long  ago.  It 
was  her  brave  little  heart  that  kept  him  going.  He 
would  not  let  her  see  that  he  had  less  pluck  than  she 
had.  He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  already  contrite  be- 
cause he  had  appeared  harsh,  and  while  his  lips  were 
still  hovering  about  her  cheek  she  murmured : 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  Roy.  You  will  succeed. 
You  will  become  rich — famous.  I  feel  it,  I  know  it; 
and  then  perhaps  you'll  regret  you  married  me.  You'll 
be  sorry  you're  not  free  to  enjoy  your  success — your 


218  THE   END    OF 

wealth.  A  new  world  will  open  to  you — a  world  in 
which  I  shall  have  no  place." 

He  threw  his  arms  fondly  round  her  and  drew  her 
to  him. 

"  Eunice,"  he  said,  "  if  your  words  come  true,  I 
would  not  care  to  know  a  world  in  which  I  could 
not  have  you  for  my  constant  companion.  If  your 
words  come  true,  if  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  make  a 
success  and  build  up  a  fortune,  it  will  be  for  you  to 
enjoy.  If  great  riches  come  to  me,  it  is  in  your  lap 
that  I  shall  lay  them,  for  to  you  I  shall  owe  every- 
thing." 

She  shook  her  head,  refusing  to  look  at  it  in  that 
light.  She  had  done  nothing.  If  he  achieved  any- 
thing, it  would  be  by  his  own  efforts.  He  had  the 
ability.  Only  the  right  opportunity  was  wanting,  and 
she  insisted  upon  it  so  strongly  that  finally  Roy  be- 
came convinced  of  it  himself.  He  had  plenty  of  self- 
confidence.  If  this  steel  business  afforded  an  oppor- 
tunity he  would  make  good  in  it.  Then  it  would  be 
either  much  or  nothing.  He  would  either  rise  to  the 
very  top  or  sink  out  of  sight  altogether.  There  could 
be  no  half-way.  He  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  be 
content  with  a  subordinate  position. 

The  following  Monday  saw  him  once  more  at  the 
offices  of  the  Excelsior  Steel  Company.  This  time 
he  was  more  successful.  He  sent  in  Winchell's  letter, 


THE    GAME  219 

and  after  waiting  about  half  an  hour  he  was  ushered 
into  the  private  office  of  Mr.  Miller. 

The  general  manager  of  the  Excelsior  Steel  Com- 
pany was  a  distinguished-looking  man  of  about  fifty 
years  of  age,  with  white  hair  and  mustache,  a  keen, 
intelligent  face  and  a  quick,  explosive  speech  and 
dominating  manner.  He  kept  Roy  standing  a  moment 
or  two  without  looking  up  from  the  accumulation  of 
four  days'  mail  heaped  on  his  desk,  and  then,  giving 
him  a  quick  glance,  waved  him  to  a  chair. 

"  So  you  wish  to  get  into  the  steel  business  ?  "  he 
said.  His  tone  was  slightly  ironical.  He  had  noticed 
Roy's  well-made  clothes  and  white  hands,  which  did 
not  exactly  suggest  the  practical  steel  maker. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Roy  boldly.  "  I  have  been  doing 
newspaper  work,  but  it  wasn't  big  enough.  Steel 
appealed  to  me,  and " 

The  manager  interrupted  him.  "  There's  one  thing 
you  newspaper  men  are  never  deficient  in,  and  that 
is  nerve.  Nothing  phases  you.  You  imagine  your- 
selves as  well  able  to  preach  a  sermon  as  to  com- 
mand a  battleship.  Why,  what  do  you  know  about 
steel?  You  probably  couldn't  tell  the  difference  be- 
tween a  'mixer'  and  a  'converter.'  We've  no  use 
for  dudes  here.  The  successful  steel  man  must  throw 
away  his  fine  clothes,  jump  into  overalls  and  learn 
the  business  from  the  bottom  up." 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  do,"  cried  Roy,  half  rising 


220  THE   END    OF 

from  his  chair  in  his  eagerness  to  convince  the  man- 
ager of  his  sincerity.  "  Put  me  at  any  kind  of  work — 
shovelling  coal,  stoking  furnaces,  anything  until  I 
can  show  you  what  I  can  do.  I'm  a  first-rate  mathe- 
matician, and  few  can  beat  me  at  applied  mechanics." 

Mr.  Miller  looked  more  attentively  at  the  young 
man.  There  was  something  in  his  tone  and  manner 
that  he  liked.  Expert  mechanics  were  just  what  the 
Excelsior  Steel  Company  was  looking  for.  His  tone 
was  more  conciliatory  as  he  said: 

"  There's  a  splendid  opportunity  .in  this  business 
for  a  young  man  with  brains  and  energy.  Our  policy 
has  been  to  give  responsible  positions  to  young  men 
who  proved  they  had  the  ability  to  produce  results. 
We  don't  care  whether  a  man  is  a  veteran  or  a  tyro 
so  long  as  he  can  accomplish  things.  There  are  no 
apprenticeships  to  be  served  here.  The  newcomer 
who  proves  that  he  has  real  ability  in  any  branch  of 
the  business  may  be  a  partner  to-morrow.  Out  of  forty 
superintendents  now  in  our  employ  only  four  are  men 
with  technical  school  training.  The  others  all  began 
as  simple  workmen.  We  have  no  use  for  incompetents. 
Directly  a  man  shows  inefficiency  he  is  dropped.  If 
he  is  useful,  he  is  promoted  and  given  a  share  in 
the  profits.  I  like  your  looks.  Your  friend  Mr. 
Winchell  recommends  you  highly.  I  am  willing 
to  give  you  a  trial.  You  will  start  as  assistant  to 
Superintendent  Smith,  in  the  armor-plate  department 


THE    GAME  221 

The  salary  is  three  dollars  a  day  to  start  with.  Re- 
port to  Mr.  Smith  to-morrow.  He  will  receive  in- 
structions from  me  meantime.  Good  morning." 

Roy  returned  to  the  hotel  jubilant.  The  oppor- 
tunity he  had  longed  for  had  come  at  last.  Once  in- 
side the  works  there  was  no  telling  how  high  he 
might  climb. 

"  Who  knows !  "  he  cried.  "  I  may,  as  you  said, 
be  president  of  the  company  some  day." 

Eunice  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck. 

"  Of  course  you  will !  "  she  said.  "  Your  very  name, 
Roy,  means  king.  You  will  be  king  of  the  steel  world. 
I  predict  that  you  will  become  master  of  them  all." 

Early  next  day  Roy  reported  to  Superintendent 
Smith.  The  young  man  had  discarded  his  fashionably 
cut  clothes  and  appeared  in  a  ready-made  suit  of 
sombre  hue  which  he  and  Eunice  had  picked  out  in  a 
Pittsburg  outfitter's  establishment  the  evening  before. 
The  purchase  had  made  another  hole  of  fifteen  dollars 
in  their  scanty  hoard,  but  it  would  never  do  to  make  a 
bad  impression  in  the  mills  at  the  outset.  He  had 
the  appearance  of  a  neat-looking  mechanic  attired  in 
his  Sunday  best. 

Superintendent  Smith,  a  grizzled  veteran,  eyed  him 
approvingly.  He  was  a  rough  diamond  himself,  but 
he  was  a  good  judge  of  men,  and  he  liked  the  swing 
of  Roy's  walk,  his  clear  and  intelligent  eye,  the  way 
he  talked.  He  put  a  few  questions  testing  his  knowl- 


222  THE   END    OF 

edge  of  practical  mechanics,  and  Roy's  answers  appar- 
ently satisfied  him,  for  he  at  once  evinced  interest  in 
showing  him  about  the  shop  and  instructing  him  in 
what  there  was  to  do. 

If  John  Armstrong  was  the  soul  of  the  Excelsior 
Steel  Company,  Jake  Smith  was  its  heart.  Scientists 
showed  the  way  to  make  steel,  and  financiers  fur- 
nished the  necessary  capital,  but  it  took  men  of  Smith's 
calibre  to  hammer  out  the  molten  metal  in  the  shops 
in  order  to  make  the  industry  a  success.  Jake  had 
grown  up  with  the  steel  business  from  boyhood,  and 
was  familiar  with  the  practical  end  of  every  part  of 
it.  His  men  respected  him  for  this  reason.  There 
was  nothing  he  told  them  to  do  which  he  was  not 
capable  of  doing  as  well,  if  not  better,  himself.  He 
was  in  absolute  command  of  nearly  ten  thousand  work- 
men and  never  had  a  general  a  better  drilled  or  better 
disciplined  army.  The  men  were  devoted  to  him,  and 
as  a  result  he  got  out  of  them  twice  as  much  as  super- 
intendents in  other  plants  who  adopted  a  different 
policy.  Here  was  the  real  secret  of  the  Excelsior 
Company's  phenomenal  success.  Smith  had  set  such 
a  pace  in  his  mills  that  their  competitors  found  it  im- 
possible to  keep  up.  To  maintain  this  breakneck  speed, 
and  fill  the  company's  treasury  with  gold,  he  spared 
neither  himself  nor  his  men.  Yet  he  was  not  a  hard 
taskmaster.  Stern,  and  subject  under  provocation  to 
tempestuous  bursts  of  rage,  he  was  always  just.  A 


THE   GAME  223 

giant  in  stature  and  strength,  he  could  be  gentle  as  a 
child  and  kind-hearted  as  a  woman.  He  knew  almost 
all  his  men  by  name,  and  took  a  personal  interest  in 
the  troubles  of  each.  Hundreds  of  dollars  of  his  own 
money  he  had  been  known  to  give  away  helping  the 
families  of  workmen  thrown  out  of  work  through  ill- 
ness. 

Such  was  the  man  under  whose  aegis  Roy  began 
his  career  as  a  steel  maker. 

Late  that  same  day  Mr.  Miller  went  down  to  the 
works  on  business,  and  happening  to  catch  sight  of 
Roy,  who  was  busy  on  a  job,  he  beckoned  the  super- 
intendent aside  and  asked: 

"Well,  Jake,  how's  the  new  assistant?  Any 
good?" 

The  superintendent  shifted  his  quid  of  'baccy, 
ejected  about  half  a  pint  of  saliva  from  his  mouth, 
and  answered  laconically: 

"  Guess  he'll  get  along.  But  cawn't  allus  tell  from 
'pearances.  Seems  bright  enough,  and  willin'  enough, 
an'  don't  pretend  to  know  everything  in  creation. 
That's  more  than  I  can  say  for  the  other  chaps  you 
sent  me." 

When,  at  the  end  of  the  first  day,  Roy  went  home, 
Eunice  hurried  forward  to  greet  him. 

"Well,  dear?"  she  said,  in  eager  interrogation. 

He  was  in  good  spirits,  and,  taking  her  in  his  arms, 
gave  her  an  affectionate  hug : 


224  THE   END    OF 

"  It's  all  right,  little  wife.  From  now  on,  hubby's 
a  steel  maker.  There's  nothing  to  beat  it.  It  is  sim- 
ply wonderful.  If  I  don't  come  to  something  in  that 
business  I'm  no  good." 

Eunice  beamed  as  he  went  on  to  give  an  account 
of  the  day's  doings,  his  interview  with  the  superin- 
tendent and  the  work  they  put  him  to  do. 

"  There's  nothing  I  don't  understand,"  he  added. 
"  And  in  a  month  or  two  I  shall  be  able  to  show 
them  a  trick  or  two  myself.  There's  a  Harvard  man 
there  named  Leonard  Harvey.  He  seems  a  good  sort, 
and  is  quite  friendly.  He's  one  of  the  company's  most 
promising  men,  and  already  holds  a  very  responsible 
position.  He  told  me  that  when  a  man  suits  promo- 
tion is  very  quick,  and  he  led  me  to  think  I  shall  get 
on  all  right." 

The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  decide  upon  a 
home.  They  could  not  afford  a  very  luxurious  one 
on  Roy's  present  salary,  but  rents  were  cheap,  and 
no  doubt  they  would  be  able  to  manage  for  the  pres- 
ent. Roy,  naturally,  had  no  time  to  go  home-hunting, 
so  the  task  fell  on  Eunice. 

After  much  diligent  searching  she  found  a  little 
two-story  house  at  Glendale,  a  picturesque  little  place 
about  two  miles  from  the  steel  works.  It  was  a  little 
frame  cottage,  one  of  about  a  dozen  pleasantly  situ- 
ated among  the  rolling  green  fields  lying  to  the  south- 
west of  the  company's  property.  There  were  in  it 


THE    GAME  225 

four  fair-sized  rooms,  besides  a  kitchen  and  bath- 
room, and  what  pleased  Eunice  more  than  anything 
else,  the  house  had  a  roomy  porch  and  a  small  garden 
back  and  front.  The  rent  was  twenty  dollars  a  month, 
rather  more  than  they  thought  they  ought  to  pay, 
but  when  Roy  returned  to  the  hotel  that  evening,  and 
listened  to  Eunice's  enthusiastic  description  of  the 
house,  he  gave  her  ten  dollars  to  pay  a  deposit  on  it 
at  once.  Then  they  worried  about  furniture.  They 
could  not  move  into  an  empty  house.  They  must  have 
chairs  to  sit  on  and  a  bed  to  sleep  in. 

Roy  suddenly  got  a  bright  idea.  He  once  saw  a 
play  where  a  young  couple,  reduced  by  a  slender  purse 
to  strange  expedients,  had  furnished  a  flat  completely 
by  using  empty  soap  boxes  turned  upside  down  and 
tastily  draped  with  any  odds  and  ends  of  colored 
material.  The  general  effect,  he  remembered,  was 
very  aesthetic.  He  did  not  recall  how  they  had  man- 
aged to  make  a  bed  out  of  the  soap  boxes,  but  they 
had  answered  admirably  for  dining-room  table  and 
chairs. 

The  scheme  did  not  appeal  to  Eunice  at  all.  They 
must  begin  right,  she  said.  Furnishing  their  little 
home  was  a  serious  matter,  and  not  to  be  treated  as 
a  joke. 

"  Supposing,"  she  said,  with  a  roguish  twinkle  in 
her  eye,  "  Mr.  John  Armstrong  were  to  call  on  us 
one  day,  and  when  I  asked  him  to  sit  down  he  sud- 


226  THE   END   OF 

denly  discovered  he  was  sitting  on  a  soap  box.  What 
would  you  do  ?  " 

"  What  would  I  do?  "  laughed  Roy.  "  Why,  I'd  ask 
him  to  raise  my  wages,  so  I  could  buy  some  chairs." 

Then  Eunice,  whose  more  practical  ideas  generally 
prevailed,  thought  of  something  else.  She  had  heard 
of  furniture  dealers  who  sell  goods  on  instalments. 
Perhaps  they  could  get  what  they  wanted — say  a 
hundred  or  two  hundred  dollars'  worth — and  pay 
so  much  a  week.  If  their  rent  cost  five  dollars  and 
the  furniture  about  three,  that  would  leave  a  balance 
of  ten  dollars  a  week  for  food,  gas,  clothes,  coal 
and  other  expenses.  The  girl  and  piano  seemed  a 
long  way  off.  Eunice  looked  ruefully  at  Roy. 

"Not  very  much,  is  it?" 

"  Oh,  it'll  be  all  right,  dear.  They'll  soon  give  me 
more ;  in  fact,  Mr.  Miller  said  as  much.  Don't  worry, 
we'll  be  all  right.  Here,"  he  added,  passing  over  to 
her  what  was  left  of  their  savings,  "  take  this  and  do 
what  you  can  with  the  furniture  people." 

So  while  Roy  was  away  all  day,  acquiring  the  art  of 
steel  making,  Eunice  attended  to  the  business  details 
connected  with  taking  their  new  home.  She  found  a 
dealer  who  was  willing  to  let  her  have  two  hundred 
dollars'  worth  of  furniture,  and  she  immediately  picked 
out  what  she  wanted  and  had  it  sent  to  Glendale. 
Meantime  she  had  attended  to  the  lease,  the  gas  was 


THE  GAME  227 

turned  on,  and  in  a  few  days  they  were  able  to  take 
possession. 

Roy,  of  course,  was  delighted  with  everything. 
Firstly,  the  house  was  Eunice's  selection;  secondly, 
any  kind  of  a  home  was  welcome  after  knocking  about 
so  long  in  hotels  and  boarding-houses.  What  a  relief, 
he  said,  to  think  that  they  could  say  what  they  liked, 
do  what  they  liked,  eat  what  they  liked,  with  nobody 
present  to  criticise  them.  He  admired  everything, 
while  Eunice  took  him  proudly  from  room,  to  room 
and  into  the  back  garden,  where,  she  said,  they  would 
grow  their  own  vegetables. 

"We'll  have  chickens,  too,"  cried  Roy.  "I  love 
chicken  fricassee !  " 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Roy,"  laughed  Eunice.  "  You 
can't  have  chickens  and  eat  them,  too.  People  have 
chickens  for  the  eggs.  Yes,"  she  added  thoughtfully, 
"  we'll  have  chickens." 

The  outside  of  the  house  was  painted  a  bright  yel- 
low and  the  shutters  were  a  vivid  red.  The  color 
scheme  rather  jarred  Roy's  aesthetic  taste,  and  Eunice, 
noticing  his  pained  expression  as  he  gazed  upon  it, 
understood.  But  what  could  they  do?  They  could 
not  afford  to  have  it  repainted.  Hadn't  Eunice  said 
it  was  better  not  to  fret  over  what  one  cannot  help? 
So  Roy  made  no  comment,  for  which  Eunice  was 
grateful. 

She,  herself,  was  pleased  a«  a  child  with  a  doll's 


228  THE   END   OF 

house.  This  was  her  doll's  house.  She  was  the 
"  mommer  "  and  Roy  was  the  "  popper."  She  sang 
and  laughed  all  day,  running  from  room  to  room, 
hanging  pictures  here,  arranging  furniture  there, 
cleaning  and  polishing,  admiring  everything  from  the 
preposterous  flowers  on  the  parlor  wall-paper  to  the 
diminutive  ice-box  in  the  kitchen,  which  would  barely 
hold  a  can  of  sardines.  Then  when  six  o'clock  came, 
while  the  dinner  was  cooking,  she  would  go  out  to  the 
porch,  and  watch  the  long  road  that  led  to  the  works, 
straining  her  eyes  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of  the 
familiar  figure  of  the  loved  one. 


THE    GAME  229 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  a  few  weeks'  time  the  young  couple  felt  as  if 
they  had  been  at  Glendale,  leading  their  present 
bucolic  existence,  all  their  lives.  They  were 
now  fairly  comfortably  settled.  Eunice  had  got  her 
vegetable  garden  started  and  Roy  was  busy  each 
evening  building  his  chicken  coop.  They  had  become 
acquainted  with  some  of  their  neighbors,  ordinary 
country  folk,  uncouth,  uncultured,  not  very  congenial 
as  associates,  having  few  interests  with  them  in  com- 
mon, but  kind-hearted,  friendly  people,  always  ready 
to  inconvenience  themselves  in  order  to  render  a  ser- 
vice. In  the  artificial,  vitiated  air  of  the  city,  which 
engenders  distrust  and  dislike  of  strangers,  one  may 
live  for  years  in  the  same  house  without  speaking  to 
or  even  knowing  the  name  of,  the  people  next  door, 
but  in  the  country,  where  the  air  is  free  from  the  con- 
tamination of  convention,  where  man  greets  his  fellow 
with  a  frank  eye  and  cordial  hand  grip,  no  such  bar- 
riers exist.  Each  is  willing  to  do  another  a  good  turn, 
never  knowing  when  he  may  need  it  himself,  and  it  is 
surprising  how  this  spirit  of  good  fellowship  and  hu- 
man sympathy  adds  to  the  happiness  of  all. 

The  cottage  on  their  immediate  right  was  occupied 


230  THE  END   OF 

by  a  German  family  named  Schultz.  The  husband  was 
also  in  the  employ  of  the  Excelsior  Steel  Company, 
being  foreman  of  one  of  the  blast  furnaces,  and  his 
wife,  a  stout  blonde  woman  of  the  pure  Saxon  type, 
had  formerly  been  in  domestic  service.  Both  being 
thrifty,  a  characteristic  of  their  countrymen,  they  had 
saved  enough  by  the  time  they  were  married  to  buy 
this  little  house,  which  now  they  owned  clear  of  en- 
cumbrance, so  from  the  worldly  point  of  view  they 
were  better  off  than  Roy  and  Eunice,  who  had  married 
largely  on  love  and  theory.  They  had  one  little  girl 
of  eight  who  was  the  exact  replica  in  miniature  of 
her  mother,  always  scrupulously  clean  and  neatly 
dressed,  and  with  two  stiff  flaxen  braids  the  ends  of 
which  curled  upward.  She  was  serious  beyond  her 
years,  having  no  taste  for  toys  and  games,  but 
displaying  the  gifts  of  the  born  haus  frau,  sweeping 
the  porch,  going  errands  or  tending  the  garden  with 
the  dignity,  gravity  and  precision  of  a  grown  woman. 
Eunice  was  at  once  attracted  to  the  child  and  this 
had  led  to  a  better  acquaintance  with  the  parents.  Roy 
quite  agreed  with  his  wife  that  it  was  good  policy  to 
make  friends  with  everybody.  Besides,  it  would  make 
it  less  lonely  for  her  while  he  was  away  all  day.  He 
did  not  see  why  he  should  hesitate  to  treat  the  Schultzes 
as  equals.  The  social  position  which  a  man  held  in 
the  world  depended  either  on  the  size  of  his  fortune 
or  the  prominence  he  had  attained  by  his  own  efforts. 


THE    GAME  231 

If  he  succeeded  in  climbing  high,  he  could  not  afford 
to  mingle  on  equal  terms  with  those  at  the  foot  of 
the  ladder.  In  practical  sociology,  lines  of  class  must 
inevitably  be  drawn.  But  until  he  had  made  a  lofty 
position  for  himself  he  was  no  better  than  anybody 
else.  Both  he  and  Eunice  had  the  advantage  over  the 
Schultzes  in  the  matter  of  education  and  general  cul- 
ture. Schultz,  on  the  other  hand,  was  an  expert  steel 
maker.  He  held  a  responsible  position  at  the  works, 
furthermore  he  made  more  money  and  owned  his  own 
home.  So,  in  the  evenings,  after  supper,  Roy  would 
often  smoke  and  chat  with  the  foreman  discussing  the 
making  of  steel,  while  Eunice  and  Mrs.  Schultz  were 
interested  in  matters  more  closely  connected  with  the 
making  of  a  home. 

Schultz  was  a  big  blond  man  of  about  forty-five,  with 
fc  deep,  resonant  voice.  Like  many  workmen  of  his 
nationality,  he  was  a  chronic  grumbler  and  an  indus- 
trial firebrand.  He  kept  in  close  touch  with  the  va- 
rious socialistic  groups  and  thanks  to  his  own  ora- 
torical powers  was  one  of  the  favorite  speakers  at  the 
fortnightly  meetings  of  the  Steel  Workers'  Union,  a 
formidable  labor  organization  which  was  growing 
more  powerful  and  more  arrogant  every  day.  It  had 
thirty  thousand  steel  workers  enrolled  and  at  a  word 
from  its  officers,  the  wheels  in  every  shop  would  stop 
revolving,  the  fires  in  every  furnace  would  go  out. 
The  Company  was  well  aware  of  the  Union's  strength 


232  THE   END    OF 

and  up  to  the  present  time  had  avoided  any  friction 
with  the  men  likely  to  lead  to  an  open  rupture.  But 
workmen  of  Schultz's  type,  who  come  to  America  im- 
pregnated with  socialistic  theories  imperfectly  di- 
gested and  understood,  were  just  the  sort  of  men  to 
sow  dissatisfaction  and  unrest  and  make  a  peaceable 
compromise  impossible.  It  had  taken  all  the  diplo- 
matic powers  of  the  Company  to  keep  the  men  in  good 
humor  and  neutralize  the  effect  of  the  hotheads'  wild 
talk.  Already  there  were  ominous  rumors  of  a  com- 
ing big  strike. 

One  evening  the  foreman  and  Roy  were  sitting  out 
on  the  porch  smoking.  Mrs.  Schultz  was  indoors 
looking  after  little  Mina,  who  did  not  feel  well,  and 
Eunice  was  keeping  her  company.  It  was  so  unusual 
for  the  child  to  be  ill  that  they  had  sent  for  the  doctor. 

"  It's  coming,  I  tell  you  vot,"  Schultz  was  saying  to 
Roy.  "  De  men  vill  not  be  robbed.  Mein  Gott !  Ve 
are  tirty  tousand.  Ve  can  dictate  our  own  terms. 
Eef  de  bosses  von't  give  us  de  old  contract  ve  vill 
declare  var  und  go  on  von  of  de  biggest  strikes  Amer- 
ika  has  seen  alretty." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  tirade,  the  fore-; 
man  relapsed  into  silence,  puffing  furiously  at  his  corn- 
cob pipe. 

"What's  the  grievance?"  demanded  Roy.  "The 
men  seem  contented  enough  from  what  little  I  have 


THE   GAME  233 

seen  of  them.  Wages  are  good,  work  is  steady.  What 
more  do  they  want?" 

"  Gott  in  Himmel !  "  exclaimed  Schultz,  "  vot  a 
greenhorn!  De  men  contented?  Dey  is  never  con- 
tented, because  dey  is  always  being  robbed  by  de  cap- 
italist. Eef  vages  is  gute  vy  is  dat?  Because  de 
bosses  can't  help  demselves.  Eef  de  vorkmen  vere 
not  organized,  de  bosses  vould  let  dem  all  starve !  De 
Union  forced  de  bosses  to  give  de  old  contract  vich 
gave  dem  gute  vages.  Now  de  Company  refuses  to 
renew  de  contract.  Dey  vant  to  reduce  de  vages  but 
dey  shall  not.  De  Union  vill  fight.  De  Company  vill 
lose.  You  vill  see !  You  vill  see !  " 

Roy  was  not  greatly  elated  at  the  possibility  of  labor 
troubles.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  merits  of  the  case, 
having  given  the  matter  no  attention,  but  the  conse- 
quences of  a  strike — the  works  closed,  ten  thousand 
men  out  of  employment — himself  among  them — winter 
coming  on,  food  and  other  necessaries  at  famine  prices 
— certainly  the  prospect  was  not  a  cheerful  oae.  He 
knew  it  was  almost  a  mania  with  Schultz,  this  idea  of 
the  tyranny  of  capital — the  men  at  the  works  called 
him  "  the  crazy  Dutchman," — so  perhaps  his  talk  was 
not  to  be  taken  seriously.  He  certainly  would  not  tell 
Eunice.  She  would  only  worry. 

Suddenly,  there  was  a  sound  of  wheels  crunching 
the  pebbles  on  the  road  and  a  one-horse  buggy  drew 


234  THE   END   OF 

up  at  the  curb.  A  dark  man  with  a  pointed  beard 
and  carrying  a  little  handbag,  sprang  down. 

"  Guten  abend,  Herr  Doctor,"  cried  Schultz,  hurry- 
ing forward  to  greet  the  new  comer. 

"  How's  the  little  girl  ?  "  asked  the  visitor,  smiling 
pleasantly. 

"  Mina,  she  has  a  sore  troat,  und  my  vife  is  scared 
alretty  of  sore  treats  since  de  first  chilt  died  of  scarlet." 

"  That's  right — that's  right.  One  can't  be  too  care- 
ful. There's  a  lot  of  sickness  about.  I'm  attending 
three  cases  of  scarlet  now.  A  stitch  in  time  saves 
nine,  you  know." 

He  proceeded  up  the  porch,  looking  interrogatively 
at  Roy.  Schultz  introduced  the  two  men. 

"  Herr  Doctor,  dis  is  Roy  Marshall.  He  vorks  mit 
me  at  de  vorks.  He  lives  next  toor.  Marshall,  dis  is 
Dr.  Brunner,  de  cleverest  doctor  in  all  Pennsylvania — 
a  big  kind-hearted  freund." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  the  eulogy 
was  distasteful  to  him,  and  smiled  and  nodded  at  Roy, 
quick  to  note  that  he  was  no  ordinary  workman.  He 
looked  surprised,  but  he  said  nothing  and  passed  into 
the  house,  leaving  the  two  men  on  the  porch. 

"  Eef  all  men  vas  like  him,"  said  Schultz,  looking 
after  the  doctor's  retreating  figure,  "  dere  vould  be 
no  strikes.  He's  one  of  de  right  sort,  devotes  ees  life 
to  doing  gute.  Ven  my  first  paby  died,  I  vas  just  pe- 
ginning.  I  had  used  up  my  last  cent.  Do  you  know 


THE   GAME  235 

vat  he  dit?  He  dit  not  vant  payment  for  his  ser- 
vices, tmd  in  de  pargain  he  brought  us  de  medicine 
he  prescribed.  Can  you  beat  dat?  Can  you  imagine 
a  steel  president  doing  dat  ?  Oh,  de  dogs !  De  dogs ! 
dey'll  pay  for  it ! "  he  growled,  reverting  to  his 
favorite  bete  noir. 

Presently,  Dr.  Brunner  reappeared,  followed  by 
Mrs.  Schultz,  whose  buxom  face  was  all  smiles,  and  by 
Eunice,  to  whom  the  physician  paid  particular  atten- 
tion. In  that  remote  spot,  situated  several  miles  from 
the  city  and  the  residential  districts  of  the  well-to-do, 
and  settled  almost  exclusively  by  the  working  classes, 
it  was  something  of  a  novelty  to  meet  a  woman  with 
well-bred  manners  and  of  obvious  refinement  and  cul- 
ture, so  while  Dr.  Brunner  talked  with  the  mother 
about  her  little  girl,  he  looked  over  her  shoulder  at 
Eunice. 

"  The  child's  all  right,"  he  was  saying.  "  It's  just 
a  little  tonsilitis.  Give  her  the  gargle  and  to-morrow 
she'll  be  running  about  as  usual."  Turning  directly 
to  Eunice,  he  said,  "  How  do  you  like  living  at  Glen- 
dale,  Mrs.  Marshall?" 

"  Oh,  we  like  it  very  well,"  answered  Eunice.  "  I 
love  the  country;  and  besides,  it  is  convenient  for  my 
husband." 

"  So  you're  a  steel  maker?  "  said  the  doctor,  eyeing 
Roy  with  mterest.  He  was  wondering  what  impulse 
had  attracted  this  young  man,  evidently  of  good  fam- 


236  THE    END    OF 

ily,  to  bury  himself  and  his  young  wife  in  this  wil- 
derness. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Roy.  "  I'm  learning  the  business. 
It's  as  good  as  any  other — perhaps  better  if  one  makes 
a  strike." 

"  That's  right,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  The  steel  men 
are  making  fortunes." 

"  Not  de  steel  men — you  mean  de  bosses !  "  growled 
Schultz.  "  De  men  only  make  a  scanty  living.  De 
bosses  take  it  all !  " 

"  Well,  well,  we  won't  argue  that,"  laughed  the 
doctor,  knowing  the  foreman's  weak  point.  Then 
turning  to  go,  he  lifted  his  hat  to  the  women  and  said : 

"  Good  day,  ladies — I  hope  you  won't  need  me,  but 
if  you  do " 

"  Oh,  Herr  Doctor,  Mrs.  Marshall  vill  need  you 
soon,"  blurted  out  Schultz.  "  She's  expecting  de 
stork." 

Eunice  blushed  and  hid  her  face  on  Roy's  shoulder 
while  the  foreman  and  his  wife  laughed. 

"  That's  good  news,"  smiled  the  doctor  to  Roy. 
"  Well,  don't  forget  to  let  me  know  when  you  want 
me." 

He  raised  his  hat  once  more  and  entering  his  buggy, 
drove  off. 


A  few  days  later  Roy  kept  his  long-standing  promise 


THE   GAME  237 

and,  having  obtained  permission  from  Supt  Smith, 
took  Eunice  through  the  works.  He  was  eager  as 
an  enthusiastic  boy  to  show  her  the  wonders  of  steel 
making,  proud  to  let  her  gaze  upon  the  awe-inspiring 
spectacle  in  which  he  himself  played  a  part.  To 
Eunice,  accustomed  now  to  be  alone  day  after  day, 
this  little  excursion  was  a  novel  experience  and  she 
tripped  along  clinging  to  Roy's  arm  with  the  exu- 
berant joy  of  a  child  being  taken  to  the  circus. 

When  they  entered  the  works,  passing  through  the 
great  gates  from  the  high  road,  Eunice  was  bewil- 
dered at  first  by  the  turmoil  and  confusion.  The 
noise  was  deafening — the  shouting  of  orders,  warning 
cries  as  trains  of  cars  shot  by  laden  with  coal,  the 
escape  of  steam,  the  thunderous  blows  of  giant  ham- 
mers, the  pumping  of  pistons  and  incessant  whir  of 
every  conceivable  kind  of  labor-saving  machinery. 

They  were  threading  their  way  through  a  perfect 
labyrinth  of  buildings  and  outhouses,  the  special  na- 
ture of  each  of  which  Roy  explained.  In  the  large 
building  on  the  left,  they  made  nickel-steel  armor- 
plate,  the  massive  ingots  of  red-hot  metal,  often  weigh- 
ing a  hundred  tons  each,  being  carried  here  and  there 
with  amazing  ease,  by  gigantic  cranes  worked  by  elec- 
tricity, and  the  soft  steel  pressed  into  the  shape  desired 
by  hydraulic  machines  of  prodigious  power.  Yonder 
on  the  right  one  saw  the  complete  evolution  of  a  steel 
rail  from  the  crude  piece  of  pig  iron  to  the  finished 


238  THE   END   OF 

rail  ready  to  be  laid  down  on  a  track.  After  coming 
from  the  "  mixer  "  the  molten  steel  was  poured  from 
the  "  converter  "  into  ingot  moulds  standing  ready  on 
little  trains.  The  cars  then  ran  to  the  heating  pits 
where  the  red-hot  ingots  were  kept  until  ready  for  the 
rolling  mill,  a  sort  of  giant  wringing  machine  where, 
one  at  a  time,  the  hot  ingots  were  whisked  under 
powerful  rollers  which  rolled  the  dough-like  metal 
until  it  reached  the  proper  length  and  thinness.  The 
now  elongated  rail  was  then  rushed  over  rollers  to  the 
hot  saws  which,  revolving  with  terrific  speed,  cut  off 
both  ends  simultaneously,  producing  a  dazzling  dis- 
play of  multicolored  sparks.  Once  more  the  rail  was 
seized,  passed  through  a  cold  rolling  machine,  which 
hardened  it,  and  then  it  was  left  to  cool  and  have 
holes  drilled  in  the  end. 

"  How  wonderful !  "  murmured  Eunice,  fascinated 
by  all  she  saw  and  heard.  Close  at  hand  were  the 
boiler  plants,  "the  engine  houses,  and  the  pumping 
plants.  In  a  corner  of  the  yard  she  noticed  an  enor- 
mous mountain  of  some  shiny  substance  to  which 
every  now  and  then  ran  little  trains  of  cars.  She  asked 
what  it  was. 

"  That  is  ore,"  answered  Roy.  "  There's  nearly  half 
a  million  tons  of  the  stuff  piled  up  there."  Then 
pointing  to  some  distance  away  where  ten  lofty  chim- 
neys soared  to  the  sky,  he  added:  "That's  where  it 
all  goes.  Those  ten  chimneys  are  the  blast  furnaces, 


THE    GAME  239 

They  eat  up  ten  tons  of  ore  every  minute.  Just  think 
of  it — six  hundred  tons  an  hour !  Every  now  and  then 
the  furnaces  are  tapped  and  the  molten  iron  flows  into 
large  cars  which  are  drawn  by  locomotives  to  the 
'  mixer/  " 

"  What  is  a  '  mixer  '  ?  "  demanded  Eunice,  remem- 
bering- he  had  used  the  word  before. 

"  Why,"  answered  Roy,  "  it's  a  great  iron  box  with 
a  capacity  of  holding  about  three  hundred  tons  of  mol- 
ten metal.  The  metal  from  all  the  furnaces  is  poured 
into  it,  and  the  contents  mixed  by  rocking  so  the  con- 
tents become  uniform  in  quality.  Then  part  of  the 
fiery  liquid  is  poured  out  into  other  ladle  cars  and 
taken  to  the  Bessemer  converter,  where  it  is  blown 
into  steel.  I'm  going  to  take  you  now  to  see  the  con- 
verter at  work.  It  is  the  most  wonderful  spectacle 
you  ever  saw." 

He  led  the  way,  dragging  Eunice  after  him.  She 
was  too  much  interested  to  talk,  clinging  to  her  hus- 
band's arm  as  though  afraid,  if  she  relinquished  her 
grip,  that  some  of  those  great  revolving  wheels  would 
catch  her  up  and  fling  her  into  the  caldrons  of  splash- 
ing, sparkling  metal.  She  shuddered  as  she  reflected 
what  one  false  step  might  mean  to  any  one  of  the 
hundreds  of  Men  employed  there.  To  fall  in  a  vat  of 
molten  metal — to  be  shrivelled  up  instantly,  not  a 
bone,  not  a  vestige  remaining.  \Vhat  a  horrible  fate! 


240  THE   END    01 

And  to  think  her  own  husband  ran  this  risk!  She 
was  sorry  now  that  he  had  entered  the  business. 

Strenuous  activity  reigned  in  all  the  yards  and 
shops.  The  pace  set  by  the  most  energetic  among  the 
workmen  was  never  allowed  to  slacken.  The  whir  of 
machinery  and  dull,  monotonous  roar  of  human  in- 
dustry resembled  the  loud  hum  of  a  swarm  of  bees 
combing  honey  in  an  immense  hive.  Gangs  of  work- 
men hurried  here  and  there,  executing  swiftly  and  ex- 
pertly orders  given  by  foremen  considerably  their 
juniors.  Everywhere,  smooth-faced  boys  were  in  com- 
mand over  veterans.  Eunice  asked  the  reason. 

"  Oh,  age  doesn't  count  here,"  smiled  Roy ;  "  men 
are  given  positions  according  to  their  ability.  That  is 
the  policy  of  the  company.  Old-fashioned  ideas  of 
apprenticeship  don't  go  here.  Enthusiasm  receives 
the  honors  that  used  to  be  given  to  experience.  Ten 
thousand  veteran  workmen  are  practically  under  the 
orders  of  men  little  older  than  myself.  Supt.  Smith  is 
in  charge  of  the  whole  plant  and  he  is,  in  fact,  the 
backbone  of  the  whole  thing,  but  he  plans  each  day's 
campaign  like  a  general  directing  military  operations 
from  headquarters.  The  execution  of  his  orders  he 
leaves  to  younger  men.  Do  you  see  that  man  coming? 
That's  Harvey.  You  remember  I  spoke  to  you  about 
him.  He's  only  just  thirty,  but  he's  a  born  leader  in 
the  steel  business.  Everybody  says  he'll  be  partner 
some  day.  I'll  introduce  you." 


THE    GAME  241 

"Hello,  Harvey!" 

The  man  thus  accosted  turned  sharply,  and  for  a 
moment  seemed  displeased  at  being  halted.  He  had 
important  work  on  hand  and  in  steel  making  every 
moment  was  precious.  But  seeing  a  lady  with  Roy, 
his  face  relaxed.  He  advanced  toward  them,  remov- 
ing his  hat. 

"  I  am  showing  my  wife  over  the  plant,"  explained 
Roy.  Then  turning  to  Eunice,  he  said,  "  This  is 
Mr.  Harvey,  dear.  He's  an  important  man  here  and 
has  been  very  good  to  me." 

Eunice  extended  her  hand,  smiling. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Harvey.  If  you're  good  to  Roy 
you're  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  Oh,  please  don't,"  protested  Mr.  Harvey.  "  It's 
delightful  of  course  to  be  counted  among  your  friends, 
but  I  haven't  deserved  it  on  the  score  you  mention. 
Roy's  a  pretty  good  fellow,  we  all  like  him  and  he's 
going  to  make  his  mark  in  the  steel  business.  He 
already  knows  more  than  I  did  when  I  came  here." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  glad !  "  cried  Eunice,  pleased. 

Harvey  was  a  handsome,  aristocratic-looking  man, 
with  a  dark,  almost  swarthy  complexion,  and  a  small 
black  mustache,  carefully  trimmed.  He  was  well 
dressed  and  Eunice  noticed  that,  despite  the  rough 
nature  of  his  occupation,  his  hands  were  white  and 
well-shaped  as  a  woman's,  and  that  he  wore  several 
rings.  Both  his  manner  and  dress  struck  her  as  fop- 


242  THE   END    OF 

pish.  She  had  always  despised  such  men  and  instinc- 
tively she  took  an  immediate  dislike  to  him.  He  was 
friendly  enough  and  he  had  said  nice  things  about 
Roy,  but  there  was  something  in  the  bold  glance  of 
his  black  eyes,  something  in  the  soft  dulcet  tones  of 
his  voice,  which  she  did  not  like.  She  had  always 
identified  such  eyes  and  such  a  voice  with  crafty, 
treacherous  people.  Yet  it  was  easy  to  see  what  had 
attracted  Roy  to  the  man.  He  had  that  air  of  im- 
pudent self-assurance  which  is  often  mistaken  for 
ability  and  strength  of  character.  He  was  also  well 
educated  and  a  man  of  refinement,  standing  in  this 
respect  above  the  other  men  at  the  works,  and  he  had 
displayed  such  a  ge'nius  for  steel  making  that  he  was 
climbing  with  phenomenal  rapidity  to  the  top  of  the 
ladder.  It  was  not  surprising  that  a  man  of  his  stamp 
should  appeal  to  Roy. 

"  I'm  going  to  show  her  the  converter." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Harvey,  his  eyes  seeking  those  of 
Eunice  as  if  essaying  their  power  on  them.  "  Mrs. 
Marshall  will  like  that.  I  can  see  by  her  face  that  the 
beautiful  always  appeals  to  her." 

There  was  nothing  offensive  in  the  words,  but  the 
manner  in  which  they  were  said  and  the  man's  per- 
sistent stare  annoyed  Eunice.  Mr.  Harvey  touched 
his  hat  and  they  moved  on. 

As  they  proceeded  a  distant  roar  broke  upon  Eu- 
nice's ear.  It  was  a  weird,  rushing  sound  as  if  a  dozen 


THE   GAME  243 

tempests  had  been  unchained  at  once.  Instinctively, 
she  clung  tighter  to  Roy's  arm. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  inquired  timidly. 

"  That's  the  famous  Bessemer  converter.  Now 
you're  going  to  see  something  worth  while." 

They  entered  a  low,  oblong-shaped  building,  gloomy 
within  despite  its  many  windows.  The  floor  was  cov- 
ered with  a  network  of  car  tracks  running  in  every 
direction.  Overhead  were  gigantic  electric  cranes  and 
pulleys.  Workmen — swarthy  Hungarians,  bearded 
Poles — most  of  them  half-naked — toiled  silently, 
methodically  and  swiftly.  Roy  pointed  to  the  centre 
of  the  floor  where  stood  a  huge  iron  pot  about  twelve 
feet  high  and  six  feet  round,  swung  on  an  axle.  Its 
weight  was  prodigious,  but  it  was  so  nicely  balanced 
that  a  child  could  tilt  it  up  and  down. 

"  That  is  the  converter — watch !  "  he  said. 

She  saw  a  little  train  of  ladle  cars  filled  with  molten 
iron  run  up  to  the  pot.  A  workman  tilted  the  con- 
verter and  twenty  thousand  pounds  of  fiery  liquid  were 
emptied  into  it.  The  converter  righted  again  and  al- 
most simultaneously  from  hundreds  of  small  apertures 
in  the  great  pot's  bottom,  a  terrific  blast  of  compressed 
air  was  turned  on.  The  air  rushed  through  the  metal 
with  the  fury  of  a  cyclone,  sending  out  in  its  passage 
a  shower  of  sparks  of  all  colors,  while  the  converter 
roared  like  Vesuvius  in  full  eruption. 


244  THE   END    OF 

Eunice  stood  spellbound.  She  could  not  imagine 
anything  more  fascinating  or  beautiful. 

"  The  air  blows  the  impurities  out  of  the  iron  and 
the  result  is  steel,"  explained  Roy.  "  The  entire  process 
takes  little  more  than  fifteen  minutes.  Then  it  is 
poured  into  the  ingot  moulds  and  taken  to  the  other 
shops  to  be  pressed  into  shape.  That  part  of  it  you 
have  seen.  Come,  let's  go." 

As  they  left  the  works  and  took  the  road  leading  to 
Glendale,  Eunice  said: 

"  I'm  glad  I've  seen  the  works,  but  I'm  sorry  I  met 
Mr.  Harvey." 

"Sorry — why?"  exclaimed  Roy,  looking  at  her  in 
surprise. 

"  I  don't  like  him,"  said  Eunice  decisively.  "  I  am 
quick  to  form  estimates  of  people  and  I  am  seldom 
wrong.  There  was  something  about  the  man  that  I 
didn't  like." 

"  Oh,  you're  wrong,  dear,  quite  wrong,"  protested 
Roy.  "  He's  a  bully  good  chap  and  he's  going  to  be 
very  useful  to  me." 

Eunice  said  nothing  more  and  in  a  few  minutes  they 
were  home  again. 


THE    GAME  245 


CHAPTER 


THEN  the  baby  came.  A  new  odor  permeated 
the  cottage,  driving  out  the  persistent  smell 
of  fresh  paint  —  an  odor  of  violet  powder, 
milk  and  talcum  —  and  to  gladden  the  eye  there  were 
visions  of  white  linen,  dainty  lace  and  ribbons.  Three 
months  had  gone  by  since  the  visit  to  the  works,  and 
the  arrival  of  the  little  stranger  had  been  expected 
daily.  Following  a  custom  observed  in  some  of  the 
northern  countries  of  Europe,  they  had  left  a  window 
open  each  night  so  that  the  stork  might  enter  without 
knocking,  and,  right  on  time,  the  noble  bird  flew  in 
at  an  early  hour  one  morning,  carrying  its  precious 
burden,  arriving  almost  simultaneously  with  Dr. 
Brunner,  whom  Roy  had  hurriedly  gone  for  to  be 
present  at  the  joyous  occasion. 

He  was  a  lively  youngster,  absurdly  like  Roy,  and 
presenting  many  of  the  characteristics  of  a  boiled  lob- 
ster. Roy  was  afraid  to  lift  him,  for  fear  he  might 
break  in  two  like  some  fragile  doll,  but  baby  seemed 
lusty  enough  judging  by  his  lungs,  which  he  exercised 
day  and  night,  much  to  the  discomfiture  of  Herr 
Schultz  next  door,  whose  honest  slumbers  the  inces- 
sant wailing  disturbed.  Eunice  and  Roy  thought  it 
the  sweetest  music  they  had  ever  heard. 


246  THE   END    OF 

Eunice's  happiness  was  now  complete.  This  com- 
ing of  a  child  was  the  supreme  test  of  her  womanhood, 
and  it  had  not  found  her  wanting.  She  had  accepted 
eagerly  all  the  trials,  inconveniences  and  discomforts 
of  child-bearing  with  the  same  cheerfulness  and  san- 
guine optimism  which  she  had  shown  during  the  first 
dreary  months  of  their  married  life  in  New  York, 
when,  deprived  of  her  husband's  companionship,  the 
future  dark  and  unsettled,  she  found  there  were  re- 
sponsibilities and  duties  in  life  as  well  as  joys. 

The  delight  of  Roy  at  being  a  father  was  unbounded. 
It  was  almost  pathetic.  He  insisted  on  dragging 
Herr  Schultz  out  of  bed  to  come  and  look  at  his  son, 
he  stopped  on  the  streets  every  one  he  knew  only 
slightly  to  tell  them  the  news;  five  minutes  after  the 
morning  whistle  blew  every  workman  in  the  Excelsior 
plant  knew  of  the  momentous  happening.  A  little 
more  and  Roy  would  have  shut  the  shops,  put  out  the 
fires  and  announced  a  general  holiday  in  celebration 
of  the  event.  He  also  despatched  a  long  letter  to  his 
mother  at  Alton  Court. 

Taking  a  day  off,  he  went  to  the  village  and  bought 
out  almost  the  entire  contents  of  a  toy  shop,  carrying 
home  rocking-horses,  balloons,  tin  soldiers,  Noah's 
arks,  which  he  carried  in  triumph  back  to  the  cottage, 
depositing  them  in  a  heap  near  the  tiny  lump  of  pink 
humanity  now  slumbering  peacefully  at  its  mother's 
breast. 


THE   GAME  247 

"  Can  he  see  ?  "  he  questioned  Eunice  fearfully. 

"  Of  course  he  can  see,"  answered  Eunice,  with 
mock  indignation.  "  What  a  question !  " 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  knows  I'm  his  father  ?  "  per- 
sisted Roy,  examining  baby's  fingers  to  see  if  they 
were  all  there. 

"  What  shall  we  call  him  ?  "  asked  Eunice, 

Roy  began  to  think  hard.  He  saw  at  once  the 
importance  of  naming  the  child  right.  So  much  de- 
pends on  a  name!  Shakespeare  was  all  wrong  when 
he  asked  contemptuously,  "  What's  in  a  name  ? " 
Montgomery  certainly  sounded  more  euphonious  than 
Todd,  and  Gwendolin  was  more  recherche  than 
Bridget. 

"  Peter,  John,  Robert,  Arthur,  Lionel,  Theodore — 
Theodore  Marshall,  that  sounds  pretty  good.  We'll 
call  him  Theodore — Teddy  for  short.  How's  that, 
dear?" 

Eunice  liked  Theodore,  so  the  momentous  question 
was  settled. 

With  a  baby  in  the  house,  the  Marshall  cottage  took 
on  the  aspect  of  a  real  home.  During  the  young 
mother's  convalescence,  Mrs.  Schultz  and  other  neigh- 
bors dropped  in  every  day  to  render  what  services 
they  could,  and  never  before  had  Eunice  felt  herself 
surrounded  by  so  many  friends.  These,  she  felt,  were 
not  fair-weather  friends,  ready  to  run  away  at  the 
first  appearance  of  trouble,  as  was  usually  the  case 


248  THE   END    OF 

in  more  fashionable  circles,  but  true-hearted,  sympa- 
thetic women  who  would  willingly  have  shared  their 
last  dollar  with  her  had  she  needed  it. 

Roy  was  making  steady  progress  at  the  works.  He 
had  been  promoted  several  times,  and  was  getting 
twice  as  much  money  as  when  he  started.  They  were 
able,  therefore,  to  afford  several  little  luxuries  that 
were  beyond  their  means  when  they  first  moved  to 
Glendale.  They  had  a  girl  named  Katy  who  did  the 
kitchen  work  and  took  the  baby  out,  and  they  were 
able  to  save  a  little  in  the  bank. 

So  the  days,  weeks  and  months  passed,  Roy  and 
Eunice  tasting  the  sweets  of  almost  perfect  human 
happiness,  she  finding  it  in  the  exquisite  joy  of  early 
motherhood  and  the  companionship  of  her  husband, 
he  interested  all  day  in  his  work  and  returning  tired 
at  night  to  the  domestic  pleasures  that  awaited  him 
at  home.  He  usually  reached  the  house  about  six 
o'clock,  and  his  home-coming  was  the  most  welcome 
hour  of  the  day  for  Eunice.  She  would  sit  on  the 
porch  with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  waiting  for  him  long 
before  he  came  in  sight,  and  when  at  last  he  came  up 
the  garden  walk  two  pairs  of  arms  were  extended  to 
greet  him.  After  supper,  in  the  summer  evenings,  he 
would  water  the  lawn  or  attend  to  the  vegetable  gar- 
den, which  Eunice  had  been  compelled  to  neglect,  or, 
when  the  nights  grew  shorter,  he  would  sit  by  the 
lamp  in  the  parlor  and  read,  while  his  wife  sang  baby 


THE    GAME  249 

to  sleep.  Eunice  possessed  the  much-coveted  piano, 
hired  by  the  month  in  Pittsburg,  and  Roy  often 
brought  her  an  armful  of  the  latest  books  and  maga- 
zines, so  she  was  not  entirely  deprived  of  recreation 
or  of  the  intellectual  pleasures  of  life.  These  inex- 
pensive luxuries  added  much  to  her  happiness  and 
contentment. 

Most  men,  and  most  women,  too,  for  that  matter, 
would  have  chafed  under  the  monotony  of  such  a  her- 
mit life,  such  complete  seclusion  from  the  world. 
They  would  long  for  the  excitement  and  gayety  of  the 
big  cities,  the  attractions  offered  by  the  theatres  and 
society.  But  no  such  regrets  ever  entered  their 
thoughts.  To  Eunice  this  quiet,  almost  idyllic,  exist- 
ence seemed  like  a  haven  of  refuge  after  what  she 
had  gone  through.  Here  at  least  she  was  her  own 
mistress,  living  with  a  husband  and  child,  who  were 
all  she  had  in  the  world,  having  all  the  comforts  she 
needed.  Roy,  on  his  part,  was  too  much  engrossed  in 
his  work  to  wish  for  anything  else.  He  liked  the 
business  he  was  now  engaged  in,  and  by  devoting  all 
his  time  and  energy  to  it,  he  expected  one  day  to  reap 
a  substantial  reward.  He  had  set  out  to  accomplish 
something,  and  he  intended  to  see  it  through. 

They  were  well  liked  by  the  Glendale  people.  In 
fact,  there  was  not  a  woman  in  the  place  more  popular 
•than  Eunice.  At  first  her  neighbors  rather  held  aloof. 
They  were  quick  to  see  that  the  new  comers  were 


250  THE   END   OF 

gentlefolk,  and  young  Mrs.  Marshall  had  all  the  airs 
of  the  "  fine  lady,"  but  gradually  this  distrust  of  her 
wore  off.  She  was  unaffected  and  sincere,  amiable 
and  kind-hearted,  she  always  had  a  smile  for  every- 
body ;  if  any  one  was  sick  she  was  the  first  to  call  and 
see  what  little  service  she  could  render.  As  for  the 
children,  they  fairly  adored  her.  She  encouraged  them 
to  come  to  the  house,  gave  them  little  parties  on  the 
garden  lawn,  dressed  dolls  for  the  girls  and  let  the 
boys  romp  and  shout  to  their  heart's  content.  If  any 
mother  missed  her  child  she  was  sure  to  find  it  at 
Mrs.  Marshall's. 

One  day,  some  time  after  the  advent  of  little  Teddy, 
a  great  surprise  awaited  Roy  when  he  reached  home. 
Eunice  was  at  her  accustomed  post  with  baby,  but 
with  her  was  another,  a  young  girl  whom  he  did  not 
recognize  from  afar.  Suddenly  the  stranger  started 
to  run  toward  him,  and  before  he  knew  it  her  arms 
were  around  his  neck. 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Roy  ?  "  she  cried. 

"Grace!"  he  ejaculated.  "Where  on  earth  did 
you  spring  from  ?  " 

As  they  walked  to  the  house,  his  sister  explained. 
She  was  on  a  visit  to  a  friend  in  Philadelphia,  and 
had  taken  advantage  of  being  so  near  to  run  down 
and  see  them.  She  had  got  the  address  from  the  let- 
ter Roy  wrote  his  mother.  She  was  so  anxious  to 


THE   GAME 

see  the  baby  that  she  simply  could  not  resist  the  im- 
pulse. But  nobody  at  home  knew  of  her  coming. 

Roy  was  delighted  to  see  his  old  playmate,  and 
eagerly  questioned  her  about  what  had  happened  at 
Alton  Court  since  his  departure. 

His  father  was  still  bitterly  incensed  against  him, 
she  said,  and  was  now  looking  for  a  rich  wife  for  his 
brother  Ned,  who  would  become  partner  in  Marshall 
&  Co.  As  for  Miss  Merrick,  she  was  the  same  as  ever, 
more  disagreeable  if  anything  and  still  as  devoted  to 
her  terrier  Violet. 

Grace  was  overjoyed  to  see  Eunice  again.  Girl- 
like,  she  went  into  raptures  over  everything,  thought 
the  house  the  cutest  little  place  she  had  ever  seen,  and 
baby  a  perfect  treasure.  If  ever  she  married,  she  de- 
clared, she  would  like  just  such  a  house. 

Eunice  smiled  indulgently  while  Roy,  brother-like, 
put  a  damper  on  her  enthusiasm. 

"  Sis,"  he  said,  "  you're  talking  bosh.  Eunice  and 
I  are  living  this  way  because  we  have  to  and  because 
we  like  to.  But  it  wouldn't  suit  you  at  all  after  the 
first  novelty  of  it  wore  off." 

He  told  her  how  happy  and  contented  they  were, 
that  he  had  not  regretted  his  marriage  for  a  single 
moment,  and  that  Eunice  had  proved  just  what  he 
expected — a  help  and  inspiration.  He  had  made  a 
blunder  wasting  time  in  journalism,  but  he  had  now 
found  his  true  vocation.  He  was  becoming  more 


252  THE   END    OF 

expert  as  a  steel  maker  every  day,  and  the  company 
officers  had  already  given  him  to  understand  they 
considered  him  a  valuable  man,  besides  demonstrat- 
ing their  good-will  by  doubling  his  salary. 

Grace  stayed  with  them  for  two  days,  making  the 
house  so  much  brighter  with  her  girlish  merriment 
that  Eunice  was  sorry  when  she  was  gone. 

Then  their  life  went  on  as  before,  Roy  absent  all 
day  at  the  steel  works,  Eunice  dividing  her  attention 
between  her  baby  and  her  household  duties.  They 
did  not  see  much  of  their  neighbors  the  Schultzes.  Of 
late,  Eunice  had  noticed  a  certain  coolness  on  the  part 
of  the  foreman's  wife,  and  she  had  been  unable  to 
explain  the  reason.  One  afternoon  while  she  was 
on  the  porch  Mrs.  Schultz  passed  and  Eunice  stopped 
her. 

"  Why  haven't  you  been  in  to  see  me?  "  she  asked. 
"  I  haven't  seen  you  for  an  age." 

Mrs.  Schultz  looked  embarrassed,  and  coming  up  to 
the  stoop  muttered  something  about  being  busy. 

"  How's  the  baby  ?  "  she  asked. 

Master  Teddy  was  sitting  on  the  floor,  beating  a 
tattoo  with  his  hands  and  feet,  and  surrounded  by 
the  toys  a  fond  father  showered  upon  him.  Mrs. 
Schultz  patted  him  on  the  head,  but  he  did  not  appre- 
ciate the  attention,  for  he  set  up  a  howl.  Eunice  said : 

"  Only  last  night  I  said  to  Roy,  '  I  wonder  what  has 
become  of  the  Schultzes.  We  see  nothing  of  them.'  " 


THE    GAME  253 

"Veil,  it  vos  dis  way — "  stammered  her  neighbor. 
"  Your  husbant  dinks  one  way  and  my  husband  dinks 
anoder." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Eunice,  surprised. 

"  Aboud  de  drouble  at  de  vorks,"  answered  Mrs. 
Schultz. 

"  Trouble  at  the  works  ?  "  repeated  Eunice.  "  What 
trouble?" 

"  Mr.  Marshall  didn't  dell  you?  "  asked  Mrs.  Schultz 
incredulously. 

"  No,  he  told  me  nothing — that  is,  nothing  unusual. 
What  is  it?" 

"Vat?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Schultz.  "He  didn't  dell 
you  dat  de  vorks  may  close  down  any  day,  und  de 
men  go  out  on  strike  ?  " 

"  A  strike !  "  echoed  Eunice  in  dismay. 

"Ya,  a  strike,"  repeated  Mrs.  Schultz.  "  De  men 
are  determined  dis  time.  Dey  are  strong,  und  de 
bosses  vill  have  to  give  dem  vot  dey  ask.  Vill  your 
husband  go  out  mit  de  rest,"  she  demanded  suspi- 
ciously, "  or  is  he  mit  de  bosses  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  "  stammered  Eunice,  not  know- 
ing what  to  say.  "  I  know  nothing  about  it.  Roy 
has  not  told  me.  He  possibly  did  not  want  to  worry 
me.  I'll  ask  him  to-night." 

Mrs.  Schultz  turned  to  go. 

"  I  shouldn't  dink  he'd  be  a  scab — such  a  nice  man ! 
But  Schulte  has  his  doubts.  He  says  he's  too  dick  mit 


\ 


254  THE   END   OF 

Mr.  Harvey  and  dat  crowd  to  vant  to  side  mit  de 
real  vorkmen.  He's  not  in  our  class.  Neider  is  you," 
she  added  bitterly. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  repeated  Eunice  help- 
lessly. "  He  has  said  nothing  to  me.  I  suppose  he'll 
do  what's  right." 

"  I  hope  it  is  so,"  said  Mrs.  Schultz,  going ;  "  but 
Schultz  says  he's  ambitious  to  climb  to  de  top  und 
become  a  partner.  Eef  it  comes  to  a  fight,  he'd  go 
back  on  de  men  and  side  mit  de  bosses." 

That  evening  when  Roy  came  home  Eunice  broached 
the  matter  of  the  impending  strike.  He  seemed  an- 
noyed that  she  knew  about  it. 

"  I  didn't  tell  you,  dear,"  he  explained,  "  because 
I  did  not  want  to  worry  you.  I  don't  suppose  it  will 
come  to  anything.  A  few  hotheads  like  Schultz  are 
trying  to  force  an  issue  on  the  question  of  wages. 
Formerly  the  skilled  workmen  were  paid  on  a  per- 
manent yearly  basis,  then  the  company  introduced  a 
sliding  scale  of  wages,  the  intention  being  that  the 
wages  should  correspond  with  the  earnings  of  the 
business.  The  men  accepted  this,  but  the  company 
now  refuses  to  renew  the  old  contract.  Hence  the 
trouble.  The  Union,"  he  added,  "  is  threatening  to 
shut  up  the  works  and  all  that  sort  of  thing,  but  I 
don't  think  it  will  amount  to  anything." 

"  But  if  it  does  come  to  an  open  rupture,"  queried 


THE   GAME  255 

Eunice,  "  what  would  you  do  ?  What  side  would  you 
be  on?" 

"  As  far  as  I  can  judge,"  said  Roy,  "  the  company 
is  in  the  right.  It  seems  entirely  fair  that  the  wages 
should  be  scaled  according  to  the  earnings.  I  be- 
lieve in  organized  labor  when  it  is  to  protect  the  work- 
men from  the  injustice  of  unscrupulous  capitalists. 
But  there  is  nothing  of  the  kind  here.  It  is  simply  a 
case  of  an  enormously  powerful  body  presuming  on 
its  strength  to  dictate  terms  to  the  employers.  The 
relations  of  employers  and  employed  must  be  regu- 
lated on  terms  equitable  to  both  or  all  industrial  en- 
terprises would  be  paralyzed.  The  Union  is  using  its 
power  to  make  unreasonable  demands,  and  so  loses 
the  sympathy  of  impartial  observers.  Unfortunately, 
the  average  workman  does  not  reason  impartially.  He 
has  paid  his  dues  regularly  to  the  Union,  and  he  does 
not  think  he  is  getting  his  money's  worth  unless  there 
is  a  scrap.  If  the  strike  order  comes,  the  men  are 
certain  to  go  out.  I  am  not  a  member  of  the  Union, 
so  I  am  free  to  act  as  I  think  fit.  If  the  order  comes 
I  shall  stick  to  the  company.  Don't  you  think  I'm 
right?" 

Eunice  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then  said : 
"  If  the  men  are  wrong  and  the  company  is  right, 
most  assuredly  your  duty  is  to  the  company." 


256  THE    END    OF 


CHAPTER  VIII 

NOTHING  seemed  to  come  of  the  strike  talk. 
The  grumbling  of  the  men  appeared  to  be 
subsiding    like    the    distant    rumbling   of    a 
thunder-storm  passing  off  in  another  direction.     The 
grievances  of  the  men  were  apparently  forgotten,  the 
Union  was  less  aggressive  in  its  attitude,  and  the  best 
friends  of  both  capital  and  labor  were  sanguine  that 
a  conflict  would  be  averted. 

Roy  had  been  in  the  employ  of  the  Excelsior  Steel 
Company  considerably  over  a  year,  and  he  had  every 
reason  to  be  satisfied  with  the  progress  made.  He 
had  mastered  with  extraordinary  ease  and  rapidity 
all  that  metallurgy  had  to  teach,  and  now  was  not 
only  regarded  as  an  expert  in  every  branch  of  steel 
making,  but  was  generally  looked  upon  as  a  rising 
man  in  the  affairs  of  the  company.  His  thorough 
knowledge  of  mechanics  had  proved  of  incalculable 
service  to  him,  enabling1  him  to  suggest  a  number  of 
improvements  that  were  of  the  utmost  value  and  im- 
portance to  the  plant.  This  service  alone  would  have 
made  him  indispensable  to  his  employers,  but,  in  ad- 
dition, the  immense  enthusiasm  he  put  into  his  work 
did  not  fail  to  attract  their  attention.  Superintendent 


THE    GAME  257 

Smith  had  made  this  special  report  on  him:  "Very 
useful  man,  with  a  positive  genius  for  managing  men 
and  machinery."  This  came  to  the  notice  of  John 
Armstrong  himself,  and  thenceforth  Roy  Marshall 
was  a  marked  man.  His  salary  was  increased  im- 
mediately to  ten  dollars  a  day,  and  he  was  afforded 
every  opportunity  to  give  further  evidence  of  his 
ability. 

The  Excelsior  plant  was  still  in  furious  competi- 
tion with  other  steel  makers,  and  the  company  ex- 
hausted every  resource,  strained  every  nerve  to  keep 
ahead  of  its  rivals.  It  needed  just  such  men  as  Roy 
Marshall — young,  able,  enthusiastic — who  could  set 
a  fast  pace  to  maintain  the  record.  John  Armstrong, 
a  marvel  of  business  sagacity  and  diplomacy,  secured 
order  after  order  from  under  the  noses  of  his  competi- 
tors, and  then  it  was  up  to  his  workmen  to  execute 
them.  Business  was  never  so  active,  orders  for  armor- 
plate,  structural  steel,  steel  rails,  were  pouring  in  from 
all  parts  of  the  world.  Work  went  on  uninterruptedly 
day  and  night,  the  shrieking  of  the  converter,  the 
pounding  of  the  giant  hammers,  the  roaring  of  the 
furnaces  being  incessant  throughout  the  twenty-four 
hours.  The  company  was  now  turning  out  one-sixth 
of  all  the  steel  manufactured  in  the  United  States. 
Mr.  Miller,  manager  for  Mr.  Armstrong,  estimated 
that  the  profits  for  the  current  year  would  exceed 
two  million  dollars ! 


258  THE   END    OF 

Roy's  position  in  the  works  was  now  fully  as  im- 
portant as  that  held  by  Leonard  Harvey,  with  whom 
he  was  still  on  the  most  friendly  terms.  Both  men 
showed  conspicuous  ability,  although  each  displayed 
his  power  in  a  different  way.  Roy  was  the  more 
popular.  All  the  men,  from  Superintendent  Smith 
down  to  the  most  humble  furnace  tender,  liked  him. 
Always  approachable,  and  hail-fellow-well-met,  he 
was  far  more  successful  in  getting  the  best  results 
out  of  the  men  than  was  Harvey,  whose  attitude  was 
stern  and  unyielding.  With  Harvey  the  men  were 
nothing;  only  the  results  were  important.  Roy,  on 
the  contrary,  took  the  ground  that  the  men  must  be 
cared  for  in  order  to  get  results. 

The  enormous  responsibility  put  upon  him  could 
not  fail  to  develop  and  mould  Roy's  character.  From 
the  inexperienced  beginner  timidly  picking  his  way 
among  the  shoals  of  life,  in  constant  danger  of  ship- 
wreck like  a  vessel  hugging  a  rocky  coast,  he  emerged 
with  almost  startling  rapidity  into  the  alert,  resource- 
ful, broad-minded  man,  sure  of  himself,  whose  every 
act  and  word,  based  upon  long  experience,  is  deliberate 
and  masterful. 

No  one  noticed  the  change  in  him  quicker  than 
Eunice,  and  she  rejoiced  to  see  it.  Was  it  not  a  vic- 
tory for  her,  the  realization  of  her  own  hope  and 
prophecy  ?  Had  she  not  always  insisted  that  Roy  had 
in  him  the  making  of  a  splendid  manhood  if  his  en- 


THE   GAME  259 

ergies  and  talents  were  directed  in  the  proper  channel, 
if  his  life  were  surrounded  by  the  right  influences? 
The  only  thing  she  regretted  about  his  success  at  the 
steel  works  was  that  it  had  led  to  greater  intimacy 
with  Leonard  Harvey.  The  two  men  were  on  a  more 
equal  footing  now,  and  naturally  saw  more  of  each 
other.  Eunice  had  not  seen  Mr.  Harvey  since  that 
day  of  the  visit  to  the  works,  but  Roy  often  spoke  of 
him  in  terms  which  led  her  to  suppose  he  thought  a 
good  deal  of  him.  She  understood,  of  course,  that  it 
was  inevitable  that  two  young  men,  of  the  same  social 
position  and  education,  engaged  in  the  same  business 
with  equal  success,  should  have  a  great  deal  in  com- 
mon. Indeed,  it  would  have  been  strange  if  it  were 
not  so.  Yet  Eunice  was  sorry.  She  had  not  over- 
come the  dislike  she  had  taken  to  the  man,  and  she 
could  not  believe  he  could  have  any  good  influence 
over  her  husband.  In  fact,  everything  she  learned 
about  him,  either  directly  from  Roy  or  from  the 
Schultzes,  who  detested  him,  confirmed  this  impres- 
sion. He  was  said  to  be  a  leader  in  one  of  the  fast 
circles  of  Pittsburgh  social  life,  then  beginning  to 
ape  the  feverish  gayety  and  license  of  the  larger  cities, 
and  at  the  works  he  was  feared  rather  than  loved, 
being  generally  tyrannical  and  unsympathetic  with  his 
men.  One  day,  she  was  told,  an  important  order  for 
structural  steel,  of  which  Harvey  had  charge,  had 
to  be  rushed  through  for  contract  time  delivery.  An 


260  THE   END    OF 

expert  workman,  engaged  on  the  job,  went  to  Harvey 
and,  explaining  that  his  mother  was  dying,  asked  for 
a  few  hours'  leave  of  absence.  Having  regard  only 
for  the  important  work  on  hand,  Harvey  curtly  re- 
fused permission,  and  the  woman  died  without  seeing 
her  son.  The  men  never  forgave  him  that. 

But  while  Roy  admired  Harvey  for  the  possession 
of  those  qualities  which  had  put  him,  like  himself,  in 
one  of  the  most  responsible  positions  in  the  Excelsior 
plant,  his  interest  in  him  ended  there.  Time  and 
again  Harvey  had  invited  him  to  dine  with  him  at 
his  Pittsburg  club  or  to  spend  an  evening  at  the 
theatre.  He  had  always  refused — because  no  club  din- 
ner or  theatre  could  give  him  the  same  degree  of  joy 
that  awaited  him  on  his  return  to  the  little  cottage  at 
Glendale.  He  sometimes  felt  that  this  was  perhaps 
a  selfish  view  to  take,  since  Harvey's  interest  in  him, 
the  meeting  with  other  men,  going  out  in  the  world, 
would  be  likely  to  advance  him  in  his  business,  but 
when  he  argued  this  with  himself,  he  could  always 
see  before  him  Eunice's  wistful  gray  eyes,  and  in  their 
serene  depths  he  read  disapproval.  He  knew  that  she 
would  be  at  her  accustomed  place  watching  for  him. 
Each  evening  after  he  had  turned  the  corner  she 
would  hasten  to  run  and  meet  him,  little  Teddy  trot- 
ting along  at  her  side,  clutching  her  skirts.  He  could 
not  bear  the  thought  of  their  disappointment  if  he 
failed  to  come  home  at  the  usual  hour. 


THE    GAME  261 

This  domestic  life  of  perfect  content  and  happiness 
was  the  only  one  Roy  had  a  taste  for.  On  summer 
nights  after  supper,  when  baby  had  been  put  to  bed 
and  left  in  charge  of  Katy,  they  would  go  for  a  long 
stroll,  or  if  the  weather  was  bad  they  sat  indoors, 
Eunice  at  her  piano  or  busy  with  needlework,  Roy 
reading  or  working  on  plans  of  some  new  mechanical 
device  which  would  save  thousands  of  dollars  more 
to  the  company.  At  other  times  he  would  take  Teddy 
on  his  knee  and  show  the  delighted  youngster  all  kinds 
of  tricks,  or  go  down  on  his  knees  and  play  horse, 
until  the  house  rang  with  the  music  of  childish  laughter. 

One  day  Roy  left  the  works  a  few  minutes  later 
than  usual.  It  had  been  a  particularly  trying  day,  a 
number  of  things  had  gone  wrong,  as  they  are  apt  to 
do  when  once  they  begin  badly,  and  he  was  tired  out. 
He  had  also  had  all  day  an  ill-defined  feeling  of  de- 
pression which  he  had  been  unable  to  account  for  or 
shake  off,  and  he  was  the  more  uneasy  because  he 
could  not  help  connecting  it  with  his  home.  For  this 
reason,  he  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  Glendale  early. 
He  hurried  along  the  road,  running  almost  the  entire 
way,  impatient  to  see  the  familiar  figures  of  his  wife 
and  Teddy  after  he  turned  the  bend.  He  reached  the 
corner  and  his  heart  sank.  They  were  not  there. 
Something  serious  must  have  happened  to  keep 
her  indoors  on  such  a  beautiful  evening.  His  mis- 
givings were  well  founded.  Something  had  happened. 


262  THE   END   OF 

Now  really  alarmed,  he  hurried  to  the  house.  Not 
a  sound  was  to  be  heard.  He  broke  into  a  perspira- 
tion— a  horrible  feeling  of  impending  calamity  came 
over  him.  The  last  time  he  had  felt  like  that  was 
when  he  had  stood,  uncovered,  within  the  dark,  clammy 
walls  of  the  New  York  morgue.  He  opened  the  door 
and  went  in.  Eunice  came  to  meet  him,  her  face 
was  grave. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  demanded. 

She  placed  her  finger  to  her  lips,  and  in  the  un- 
certain light  he  noticed  that  she  looked  as  if  she  had 
been  crying. 

"  Hush !  He's  sleeping  now.  Don't  wake  him. 
He's  sick.  I  hope  it's  nothing.  I've  sent  Katy  for 
Dr.  Brunner." 

"  Why  didn't  you  send  for  me  ?  "  said  Roy. 

"  I  didn't  like  to  worry  you.  It  came  on  suddenly. 
He  complained  of  feeling  sick.  His  skin  was  dry  and 
hot.  Oh,  it's  nothing,  I'm  sure.  His  little  stomach 
is  upset." 

But  her  looks  belied  her.  She  was  visibly  anxious, 
if  not  alarmed. 

"  When  will  the  doctor  come  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.    He  was  out  and  Katy  left  word." 

"  I'll  get  him." 

The  next  instant  Roy  was  footing  it  to  Dr.  Brun- 
ner's  at  the  rate  of  six  miles  an  hour.  He  half  ran, 
half  walked,  anxiety  and  worry  lending  him  wings. 


THE    GAME  263 

He  found  Dr.  Brunner  just  getting  ready  to  come 
to  their  house,  so  the  two  men  returned  together.  The 
physician  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  quick  and 
accurate  diagnostician.  He  had  hardly  glanced  at  the 
child  when  he  uttered  an  exclamation  and  drew  aside 
its  night  shirt. 

"Look!  "he  said. 

"  What  ? "  cried  Eunice  and  Roy,  simultaneously 
and  apprehensively. 

"Scarlet  fever!" 

He  pointed  to  the  fine  network  of  red  rash  spread 
over  the  child's  whole  body.  Eunice  grasped  Roy's 
hand  convulsively,  while  he  set  his  teeth  hard.  Was 
it  possible  that  sickness  had  come  to  disturb  their 
happiness  ? 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  alarmed  at,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  A  few  days  will  tell  how  severe  the  attack  is  going 
to  be.  Meantime,  don't  worry." 

Advice  is  cheap.  Those  who  have  nothing  to  lose 
find  it  easy  to  risk  it.  The  young  mother  and  father, 
seeing  their  first-born  stricken  with  a  dreaded  and 
dangerous  disease,  found  small  comfort  in  such  con- 
solation. Eunice  did  not  like  to  speak,  lest  she  be- 
tray what  she  felt.  A  great  lump  seemed  to  be  in 
her  throat.  It  was  her  first  baby,  all  she  had  in  the 
world  beside  her  husband,  and  the  idea  that  some 
unknown  peril  threatened  to  rob  her  of  her  joy  was 
unbearable.  Scalding  tears  filled  her  eyes  as  she 


264  THE   END    OF 

turned  to  obey  the  doctor's  orders.  Roy  felt  as  badly, 
but  he  did  not  show  it,  his  being  one  of  those  reserved 
natures,  common  among  men,  which  suffer  internally 
abominably,  yet  with  face  unmoved,  ashamed  to  show 
weakness,  like  the  ancient  Stoics. 

But  it  was  not  a  mild  attack,  and  when  the  doctor 
called  again  he  looked  grave.  The  child,  he  said,  was 
seriously  ill,  but  they  must  hope  for  the  best.  They 
must  watch  him  day  and  night  and  he  must  have  a 
nurse.  He  would  send  for  one  from  Pittsburg.  Roy 
and  Eunice  listened  in  silence,  clasping  each  other's 
hands  in  mute  despair. 

The  professional  nurse  arrived  the  following  morn- 
ing. She  was  one  of  those  quiet,  refined  women,  so 
attractive  in  their  neat  uniform,  who  combine  the 
expertness  of  a  physician  with  the  gentleness  of  a 
mother  and  do  credit  to  their  merciful  guild.  She 
watched  all  night  by  baby's  cot,  Eunice  taking  her 
place  in  the  daytime. 

Then  began  that  dreadful  period  of  suspense,  hope, 
doubt,  and  uncertainty  which  precedes  the  crisis  of 
the  disease,  one  moment  bringing  a  slight  improve- 
ment, then  a  decided  change  for  the  worse.  The  dis- 
tracted father  and  mother  watched  wearily  at  the 
bedside,  snatching  such  moments  to  eat  and  drink  as 
they  could.  In  the  early  stages  of  the  illness  Roy 
continued  to  go  to  the  works,  although  he  might  just 
as  well  have  stayed  away.  He  was  too  worried  to 


THE    GAME  265 

be  fit  for  work,  his  mind  was  elsewhere,  and  he  could 
not  wait  till  the  time  came  when  he  could  run  home 
and  relieve  his  exhausted  wife.  As  the  crisis  drew 
nearer,  he  obtained  leave  of  absence,  and  remained  all 
day  and  all  night  in  the  sick-room. 

Dr.  Brunner  was  doing  everything  that  human  skill 
and  long  experience  could  suggest  to  save  the  child's 
life,  but  in  spite  of  his  efforts  Teddy  was  visibly  sink- 
ing every  hour.  Roy,  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  in- 
sisted on  calling  in  another  physician.  Eunice  was  too 
prostrated  to  take  any  initiative.  Dr.  Brunner  called 
in  a  colleague  from  Pittsburg — a  gaunt,  melancholy 
man  who  was  a  specialist  in  infantile  diseases.  Di- 
rectly he  saw  the  child  he  shook  his  head.  After  a 
thorough  examination  he  retired  to  another  room  to 
consult  with  Dr.  Brunner,  while  the  parents  waited 
with  blanched  faces  and  sinking  hearts,  as  might  two 
criminals  at  the  bar,  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the 
scaffold,  awaiting  the  verdict  of  the  jury  that  would 
either  acquit  them  or  send  them  to  the  gallows.  When, 
finally,  the  two  doctors  emerged,  the  expression  on 
their  faces  told  them  plainly  enough. 

"  He's  got  a  fighting  chance,"  said  Dr.  Brunner. 
"  We  hope  for  the  best,  but  you  must  be  prepared  for 
the  worst." 

Roy  and  Eunice  were  overwhelmed  at  the  catas- 
trophe which  threatened  them.  Could  it  be  possible, 
Eunice  asked  herself,  that  her  baby  was  going  to 


266  THE   END    OF 

Why  had  God  sent  her  such  an  angelic  gift  if  she  were 
only  to  be  robbed  of  it?  It  was  too  cruel,  too  impos- 
sible! And  in  a  flood  of  passionate  tears  she  flung 
herself  on  her  knees  by  the  little  white  cot,  praying  as 
she  had  never  prayed  before  that  her  child's  life  might 
be  spared. 

Roy,  more  of  a  materialist,  recognized  in  this  mis- 
fortune only  the  working  of  ruthless  nature,  which 
went  blindly  on  its  way,  crushing  mothers'  hearts, 
stopping  at  nothing,  deaf  to  everything  save  its  own 
immutable  laws.  Their  baby  was  an  infinitesimal  atom, 
a  grain  of  sand,  blown  this  way  or  that  on  the  winds 
of  fate.  What  matter  to  Dame  Nature  if  a  baby  died  ? 
To-morrow  she  would  produce  a  thousand  babies,  as 
chubby  and  beautiful.  She  took  no  heed  of  any  par- 
ticular baby.  That  was  the  inexorable  decree — birth 
and  death! 

Ah,  it  was  easy  to  argue,  but  only  cold  comfort  was 
to  be  had  from  it.  To  little  Teddy's  heartbroken  par- 
ents, their  baby  was  something  more  than  a  mere  atom 
of  life,  easily  to  be  replaced.  It  had  twined  itself 
round  their  hearts,  its  dimpled  smile  and  merry  laugh- 
ter had  kindled  a  flame  in  their  lives  that  only  time 
could  dim. 

Exhausted  from  long  vigils,  her  eyes  swollen  from 
constant  weeping,  Eunice  had  thrown  herself  on  a 
sofa  in  the  adjoining  room,  dozing  fitfully.  Roy 
sat  helplessly  in  the  sick-room,  watching  every  move- 


THE    GAME  267 

ment  of  the  nurse,  who  hovered  over  the  little  cot. 
Suddenly  the  child  moved  and  he  got  up  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  The  nurse  had  preceded  him. 

"  He  is  restless,"  she  said.    "  It  is  the  fever." 

Once  more  she  went  to  take  the  temperature.  The 
last  record  had  touched  105.  They  were  among  the 
rocks.  A  further  advance  would  be  fatal. 

Roy  could  not  bear  to  watch.  Each  time  he  looked 
at  the  drawn,  emaciated  little  face,  with  its  great 
wondering  eyes,  haggard  and  weary-looking  like  an 
old  man's,  he  with  difficulty  choked  back  a  sob.  A 
little  life,  barely  launched  in  the  world,  was  hanging 
by  a  thread.  Every  moment  the  faint  flicker  of  vital- 
ity might  be  snuffed  out,  like  the  extinguishing  of  a 
candle  in  the  breeze.  He  listened  to  the  faint  breath- 
ing, which  was  short,  and  so  weak  as  to  be  almost 
imperceptible. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  demanded  Roy,  as  she  laid  the  ther- 
mometer down.  He  asked  the  question,  yet  dreaded 
to  hear  the  answer. 

"  The  temperature  has  gone  to  106,"  replied  the 
nurse,  recording  it  on  her  chart. 

When  Dr.  Brunner  came  he  at  once  insisted  on 
heroic  measures.  The  child  could  not  live  with  such 
a  temperature.  They  must  reduce  it  with  the  ice-bath. 
It  was  a  desperate  resource.  It  killed  or  cured. 

It  seemed  cruel,  but  a  human  life  was  at  stake.  They 
took  the  child  from  the  warm  bed  and  placed  it  naked 


268  THE   END    OF 

in  a  tub  filled  with  cracked  ice.  The  temperature 
fell  immediately,  and  presently  Ithey  took  the  baby 
back  to  the  cot.  He  lay  quite  still,  his  eyes  closed, 
breathing  convulsively. 

"  He  will  be  like  that  for  some  time,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  The  temperature  is  now  artificially  down 
to  normal.  If  it  rises  moderately  there  is  hope.  If  it 
rises  rapidly  past  105  the  end  will  come  quickly." 

The  doctor  went  away,  and  Roy  and  the  nurse  began 
their  lonely  vigil,  the  heavy  silence  being  broken  only 
by  the  ticking  of  the  clock  and  the  spasmodic  breath- 
ing of  the  dying  child.  Presently  the  door  opened, 
and  Eunice,  pale,  hollow-eyed,  staggered  to  the  crib- 
side.  The  baby  looked  considerably  worse  than  be- 
fore she  had  gone  to  sleep,  and  her  mother's  instinct 
at  once  detected  the  change. 

"  He's  worse !  "  she  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper  to  Roy. 

Roy  nodded  and  explained  what  had  been  done. 
This  was  the  crisis.  He  would  die  to-night  or  live. 

"  Oh,  my  baby,  my  poor  baby !  "  moaned  Eunice, 
and  for  two  hours  she  sat  there,  motionless,  paying 
attention  neither  to  the  nurse  nor  to  Roy,  watching 
the  hectic  flush  and  the  quivering  lips  of  her  dying 
child,  a  pathetic  picture  of  human  helplessness  before 
the  decree  of  inscrutable  Nature. 

100— 101 — 102 — 103 — 104 — 105,  slowly  but  surely 
the  mercury  rose.  The  stillness  in  the  room  was  op- 
pressive as  the  three  watched.  All  one  heard  was  the 


THE   GAME  269 

ticking  of  the  clock  and  a  low  moan  which  every  now 
and  then  broke  from  Eunice,  who  had  sunk  into  a 
chair.  The  hours  went  by  this  way.  Roy  heard  a 
clock  outside  strike  four. 

Suddenly  a  low  gurgling  sound  came  from  the  little 
crib.  The  nurse  bent  forward  and  then  .came  quickly 
to  Roy. 

"  You  had  better  take  her  away,"  she  said.  "  I 
will  call  you." 

He  knew  what  she  meant.  It  was  the  end.  He  was 
surprised  to  find  how  calmly  he  took  it.  He  expected 
he  would  burst  out  weeping.  If  he  only  could,  he  felt 
it  would  relieve  him.  But  he  could  not.  There  was 
only  a  dreadful  feeling  of  a  leaden  weight  around  his 
heart.  He  put  his  arm  about  Eunice. 

"  Come,  dear.     Baby's  going  to  sleep." 

Eunice  lifted  her  wan,  tear-stained  face  to  his,  not 
understanding. 

"  Come,  dear,"  he  repeated.    "  We  will  come  back." 

He  assisted  her  to  her  feet,  and  with  his  arms  still 
about  her  she  went  docilely  with  him  from  the  sick- 
room into  the  parlor,  where  they  sat  together  on  the 
sofa  by  the  window,  waiting  for  the  close  of  the 
tragedy  they  were  powerless  to  avert,  watching  the 
streaks  of  gray  which  arose  slowly  in  the  east,  en- 
veloping the  meadows,  the  trees,  every  object  on  the 
horizon,  in  a  ghostly  mantle.  A  heavy  stillness 
reigned,  not  a  bird  twittered,  not  a  frog  croaked ;  only 


270  THE   END    OF 

the  leaves  on  the  trees  moved,  stirred  gently  by  the 
rising  wind,  which  sounded  like  a  mournful  dirge.  It 
was  a  scene  of  utter  abandonment  and  desolation,  as 
though  Nature  herself  sorrowed  at  her  own  handiwork. 

Half  an  hour  passed.  Day  was  breaking,  every  out- 
line in  the  dark  room  grew  more  distinct.  Eunice,  ut- 
terly worn  out,  had  fallen  asleep. 

"  Mr.  Marshall !  " 

Roy  started.  Who  called  him?  A  cold  chill  ran 
through  him.  Was  it  the  dreaded  summons? 

"  Mr.  Marshall !  " 

It  was  the  nurse.  She  stood  on  the  threshold,  beck- 
oning him.  In  her  white  cap  and  apron  she  looked 
like  some  angel  summoning  him  to  appear  before  the 
final  tribunal.  Almost  mechanically,  he  rose  and  fol- 
lowed her  back  to  the  sick-room.  Eunice,  still  asleep, 
was  mercifully  unconscious  of  what  was  passing. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  whispered  to  the  nurse  in  an  awe- 
stricken  whisper. 

"He  is  dead!"  she  said. 

Roy  turned  to  go.  He  could  not  bear  to  look  again 
on  that  tired,  wan  face — the  face  of  his  dead  child, 
the  child  he  had  loved  and  played  with.  Choking,  he 
groped  his  way  back  to  Eunice.  Discovering  his  ab- 
sence, she  had  risen.  He  took  her  silently  in  his  arms. 
Nothing  was  said.  There  was  nothing  to  say.  He 
kissed  her  pale  face,  wet  with  countless  tears,  as  she 
hung  limp  and  half  unconscious  in  his  arms,  moaning : 

"  My  baby !    My  poor  baby !  " 


Choking,  he  groped  his  way  back  to  Eunice. 


Page  270 


THE    GAME  271 


CHAPTER   IX 

TIME,  the  great  and  merciful  healer,  gradually 
lessened  the  force  of  the  blow  of  baby's  death, 
from  which  Eunice  and  Roy  thought  they 
could  never  recover.  During  the  first  few  months  the 
young  parents  were  inconsolable.  It  seemed  to  them 
that  they  had  nothing  left  to  live  for.  To  a  greater 
extent  even  than  they  themselves  suspected,  their  baby 
had  become  an  inseparable  part  of  their  lives  and  it 
was  only  when  they  lost  him  that  they  fully  realized 
how  happy  and  proud  they  had  been  to  possess  him. 
A  dozen  objects  in  the  house — his  high  chair,  the  little 
spoon  he  used,  his  broken  toys  and  the  little  black 
and  white  kitten  which  he  used  to  hold  up  by  the  tail, 
constantly  reminded  them  of  their  bereavement.  Eu- 
nice's eyes  would  fill  with  blinding  tears  when  she 
came  across  these  precious  relics  of  her  darling  until 
Roy,  realizing  the  uselessness  of  keeping  open  the 
painful  wound,  gradually  and  unostentatiously  put 
them  out  of  the  way.  Eunice  never  asked  where  they 
went.  She  had  not  the  heart  to  do  it  herself  and  she 
was  grateful  to  Roy  for  sparing  her  that  much  un- 
necessary pain.  So  at  last,  only  pussy  remained  and 
she,  poor  forlorn  beast,  wandered  mournfully  and 


272 


THE    END    OF 


aimlessly  about  the  house,  as  if  ever  seeking  a  con- 
genial playmate  who  was  strangely  missing. 

The  strenuous  nature  of  Roy's  daily  occupation  kept 
his  mind  too  busy  to  permit  it  to  dwell  morbidly  on 
his  loss.  The  day's  routine  at  the  steel  works  had  to 
be  gone  through,  no  matter  what  hearts  were  break- 
ing, what  homes  were  desolate.  Unlike  Eunice,  he 
had  no  religion  to  turn  to  for  consolation.  He  refused 
to  see  in  their  misfortune  anything  but  an  accident 
to  which  all  humanity  was  liable.  Organic  disease — 
the  ever  active  and  aggressive  enemy  of  life — had 
seized  their  innocent  baby  as  a  victim  and  human 
science  had  been  impotent  to  save  it.  The  tiny  flame 
of  life  which  their  joint  love  had  fanned  into  being 
had  been  snuffed  out.  Dust  had  gone  back  to  dust. 
The  child  was  dead.  That  was  the  end. 

With  Eunice  it  was  different.  She  believed  in  a 
Supreme  Being  who  sees  even  the  fall  of  the  sparrow, 
and  her  only  consolation  was  the  belief  that  one  day 
she  would  see  her  child  again.  She  could  not  imagine 
such  a  God  as  pictured  by  the  Church — a  man-like 
God,  swayed  by  human  passions  of  wrath  and  ven- 
geance. Such  a  conception  of  a  Deity  was  only  a  sur- 
vival of  barbarism,  and  little  different  from  the  mon- 
strous gods  worshipped  by  savage  peoples.  Religion 
was  the  only  subject  on  which  she  and  her  husband 
failed  to  agree.  She  refused  to  accept  the  ma- 
terialistic theory  that  the  universe,  with  its  wonderful 


THE    GAME  273 

order,  its  complex  system,  its  fixed  laws,  was  merely 
the  organization  of  blind  matter.  Can  something 
come  from  nothing?  She  firmly  believed  that  some- 
where there  was  a  Divine  Power  who  ordained  all 
things.  Life,  she  insisted,  was  not  a  blind  evolution 
from  protoplasmic  cells,  but  a  systematized  process  or- 
ganized and  perfected  by  a  Supreme  Intelligence.  Her 
reason  reeled  as  she  tried  to  comprehend,  as  she  strove 
vainly  to  imagine  a  beginning  of  and  an  ejnd  to  all 
things.  The  agnostic  who  frankly  admits :  "  I  do  not 
know,"  was,  she  thought,  much  more  reasonable  than 
Roy  who  insisted  that  there  was  but  one  substance  in 
the  universe  and  that  that  substance  was  matter. 

During  the  first  few  days  after  the  funeral  the 
Schultzes  and  other  neighbors  paid  formal  visits  of 
consolation.  Eunice  could  not  refuse  to  see  them,  but 
their  endless  chatter  wearied  her.  Roy  was  indignant 
and  wanted  to  put  them  out.  Such  calls,  he  insisted, 
showed  a  lack  of  consideration.  When  they  were 
not  prompted  merely  by  morbid  curiosity,  they  were 
a  mistaken  kindness,  their  stereotyped  phrases  afford- 
ing no  real  consolation  but,  on  the  contrary,  usually 
reopening  the  wounds  which  had  begun  to  heal. 

But  Eunice  looked  for  consolation  neither  to  her 
neighbors  nor  to  her  husband,  dearly  as  she  loved 
him.  On  every  question  relating  to  their  everyday 
life  they  agreed  perfectly.  His  tastes,  his  views,  were 
hers.  But  in  this  hour  of  poignant  sorrow,  she  found 


274  THE   END    OF 

in  him  no  echo  of  the  longing  for  spiritual  comfort 
that  arose  in  her  own  soul.  So  while  Roy  was  away 
at  the  works,  she  went  to  seek  it  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
Church  at  Pittsburg,  not  to  listen  to  the  idle  pratings 
of  sleek,  self-satisfied  priests,  but  to  sit  amid  the  sol- 
emn stillness  of  the  House  of  God.  There,  under  the 
lofty  dome,  amid  the  smell  of  incense,  organ  music  and 
the  bell-like  voices  of  the  boy  choir,  her  soul  felt  ex- 
alted, sublimated.  She  felt  she  was  a  step  nearer 
heaven,  a  step  nearer  her  baby.  She  had  no  faith  in 
the  dogmas  of  the  Church.  She  loved  only  its  ritual, 
its  mystery,  its  awe,  its  beauty.  Like  many  girls  who 
have  learned  to  use  their  brains,  Eunice  had  little  re- 
spect for  organized  religion.  She  felt  that  religion 
was  too  sacred,  too  holy,  too  sublime  to  be  surrounded 
by  the  same  business  tactics  that  are  used  in  selling 
potatoes.  The  traffic  in  prayers,  the  renting  of  pews, 
the  collections  of  money,  the  automatic  services,  the 
perfunctory  singing  of  hymns,  the  mere  theatrical  dis- 
play, the  using  of  God's  temple  for  pretence  and  hum- 
bug, cloaking  rascality,  making  the  church  the  ren- 
dezvous of  show  and  fashion — all  this  had  disillusioned 
her.  Yet  she  was  intelligent  enough  to  recognize  that 
a  ready-made  religion  was  necessary  for  the  great 
masses  of  the  people,  unthinking,  superstitious,  igno- 
rant, ever  ready  to  be  driven  like  sheep,  not  seeking 
to  know  why.  Having  no  rule  of  conduct  of  their 
own,  such  people  would  quickly  degenerate  into  un- 


THE    GAME  275 

moral  anarchy  if  the  "  big  stick  " — or  angry  Jehovah 
as  depicted  in  fearful  colors  by  the  Church — were  not 
continually  held  over  their  heads.  The  organized 
church,  founded  on  the  fears  of  the  multitude,  treated 
the  people  like  children  incapable  of  thinking  for  them- 
selves, assuming  the  character  of  the  stern  parent,  the 
schoolmaster  with  the  rod,  the  ogre  who  would  punish 
them  if  ihey  did  wrong.  These  conditions  had  not 
changed  even  in  our  own  enlightened  day.  Yet  no 
one  more  than  she  knew  the  comfort  of  true  religion. 
The  problem  of  life  mystified  and  awed  her,  and  in  her 
moments  of  great  sorrow,  at  the  time  of  her  father's 
suicide  and  later  when  her  mother  died,  she  had  found 
indescribable  comfort  in  sitting  for  hours  in  the  empty, 
silent  church. 

Gradually,  as  the  time  went  by,  Eunice  recovered 
her  spirits.  The  color  came  back  to  her  cheeks  and 
she  seemed  to  be  forgetting,  much  to  the  delight  of 
Roy,  who  had  been  really-  anxious  about  her.  When 
the  weather  permitted,  they  resumed  their  evening 
walks  as  before. 

"  We  have  no  one  to  worry  about  now,"  she  said 
sadly.  "  We've  only  ourselves." 

"  That's  why  we  must  be  good — no  more  tears  or 
mournful  fac^s,"  he  replied. 

"  It's  hard  to  forget,"  she  answered  simply. 

He  bent  over  her  and  whispered  in  her  ear.  She 
smiled  sadly  and  shook  her  head. 


276  THE   END    OF 

"  No— no  more,"  she  said.  "  I  could  not  live 
through  such  another  experience."  She  was  silent  for 
a  moment  and  then  she  went  on :  "  Roy,  I  had  a  ter- 
rible dream  about  you  last  night." 

"  What  had  you  been  eating?  " 

"  No,  seriously,  Roy.  I  must  tell  you.  I  have  felt 
wretched  ever  since." 

"What  was  it?" 

"  I  dreamed  that  you  rose  at  the  works  until  you 
became  a  partner  and  enormously  rich.  We  gave  up 
our  little  home  and  went  to  live  in  a  palace.  And 
then " 

She  hesitated. 

"  And  then  ?  "  demanded  Roy. 

"  Then  you  grew  tired  of  me.  Wealth  gave  you 
a  new  outlook  on  life.  You  grew  weary  of  our  old 
life  and  of  me.  Another  woman  pleased  you  more  and 
you  deserted  me." 

Roy  laughed  boisterously. 

"  What  nonsense !  "  he  exclaimed. 

They  had  reached  the  porch  of  their  house.  No 
one  was  in  sight  and  Roy  folded  her  in  his  arms, 
looking  fondly  down  at  the  loved,  pale  face. 

"  Even  if  the  first  part  of  your  dream  comes  true," 
he  said,  "  even  if  we  become  immensely  rich,  which 
sounds  like  a  fairy  tale,  certainly  the  denouement  your 
imagination  invents  is  preposterous.  Can  you  imagine 
my  loving  another  woman  better  than  you,  dear?  " 


THE    GAME  277 

"  Not  now,  perhaps,  but  if  you  were  very  rich,  you 
would  be  compelled  to  live  differently.  We  could  not 
continue  living  here  in  this  simple  fashion.  You 
would  have  many  rich  friends — or  so-called  friends — 
whom  you  would  have  to  entertain  in  a  style  befitting 
your  position.  A  new  world  would  open  before  you — 
a  world  you  have  never  known."  Then  after  a  pause 
she  added :  "  I  should  be  sorry.  I  have  come  to  love 
this  little  place.  It  is  associated  with  so  many  memo- 
ries, joyous  and  sad.  If  you  lived  differently  you 
would  acquire  other  tastes,  you  would  meet  other  wo- 
men who  might  attract  you  more  than  I." 

"  Never !  "  he  cried,  clasping  her  passionately  to  his 
heart.  "  If  I  had  the  gold  of  Croesus  you  and  you  alone 
would  be  the  one  woman  in  all  the  world.  You  are 
the  first  woman  who  awakened  love  in  me.  I  could 
never  look  at  another  woman  and  think  of  her  in  the 
same  way  I  do  of  you.  Don't  you  believe  me, 
Eunice?" 

She  lay  nestling  in  his  arms,  feeling  secure  against 
the  whole  world  in  his  strong  embrace.  What  harm 
could  reach  her  there?  After  all  her  sorrow,  her 
husband  at  least  remained  to  her.  They  could  still 
be  happy  together.  They  were  young  and  life  was 
still  before  them  with  bright  promise. 


Soon  after  this  there  occurred  stirring  events  which 


278  THE   END    OF 

served  to  completely  distract  the  young  couple's  at- 
tention from  their  own  troubles.  The  labor  situation 
was  once  more  critical  and  this  time  matters  looked 
grave.  Roy  returned  from  the  works  one  evening  and 
alarmed  Eunice  by  saying  that  he  would  not  be  sur- 
prised to  see  something  serious  happen  any  day.  Not 
that  they  themselves  would  be  immediately  incon- 
venienced in  the  event  of  a  strike.  Roy  had  been 
getting  a  large  salary  for  some  time  and  they  had  saved 
a  good  part  of  it,  but  one  could  never  tell  how  such 
a  fight  would  end. 

For  some  days  past  Eunice  had  noticed  unwonted 
activity  in  the  Schultz  cottage.  Almost  every  evening 
they  had  a  number  of  men  callers,  big  burly  men  with 
loud  voices  and  rough  manners,  and  instead  of  re- 
ceiving his  visitors  on  the  porch  as  customary  in  sum- 
mer, the  German  foreman  invited  them  inside,  where 
they  sat  in  a  lighted  room,  with  the  blinds  closely 
drawn.  It  was  all  very  mysterious,  and  Roy  had  no 
doubt  that  his  neighbor's  house  was  used  by  the  strike 
leaders  as  a  secret  meeting-place  where  they  could 
plan  the  campaign.  On  the  few  nights  when  the  cot- 
tage was  dark,  there  were  big  public  meetings  in  the 
halls  in  Pittsburg,  Schultz  and  others  making  inflam- 
matory speeches. 

One  morning  a  messenger  came  up  quietly  to  Roy 
as  he  was  busy  directing  a  particularly  delicate  opera- 
tion in  the  rolling  mill  and  told  him  in  a  low  tone  that 


THE    GAME  279 

the  manager  requested  his  immediate  presence  at  the 
office.  Roy's  first  impulse  was  to  send  back  word  that 
he  could  not  come.  To  quit  his  post  at  such  a  critical 
moment  might  spoil  the  costly  job  he  was  engaged 
upon  and  thus  entail  a  loss  of  thousands  of  dollars 
on  the  company,  but  on  second  thought,  he  said  to 
himself  that  he  could  hardly  ignore  such  an  urgent 
summons  which  he  had  no  doubt  was  connected  with 
the  impending  strike.  The  situation  was  becoming 
more  acute  hourly.  The  men  were  assembling  in  little 
groups  in  all  the  shops  and  muttering  while  they 
worked.  The  crisis  was  at  hand,  and  he  supposed  the 
Company  was  preparing  to  take  measures  to  cope  with 
it.  So  he  took  his  hat  and  coat  and  followed  the  man 
back  to  Mr.  Miller's  office,  situated  near  the  main  en- 
trance to  the  yards. 

When  he  got  there,  a  dozen  men  were  assembled  in 
Mr.  Miller's  private  room,  sitting  around  a  large 
table.  They  were  all  talking  earnestly  in  subdued 
tones.  Every  now  and  again,  a  speaker's  temper 
would  get  the  better  of  him  and  then  he  would  raise 
his  voice  and  hit  the  table  violently  with  his  fist  by 
way  of  emphasizing  his  argument.  That  the  meeting- 
was  of  extraordinary  importance  was  to  be  read  on 
the  faces  of  those  present,  and  in  the  air  of  suppressed 
excitement  noticeable  in  the  attendants  and  clerks  who 
passed  in  and  out  of  the  room  on  tip-toe,  and  chatted 
with  each  other  in  whispers. 


a8o  THE    END    OF 

At  the  head  of  the  table  sat  a  little  man  with  gray 
hair  and  full  beard  whom  Roy  instantly  recognized, 
from  portraits  he  had  seen  in  the  papers,  as  John 
Armstrong.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  the 
great  ironmaster  in  the  life,  and  it  was  somewhat  of 
a  shock  to  come  thus  unprepared  face  to  face  with  a 
personage  of  his  distinction.  But  the  Steel  King  paid 
no  attention  to  him,  being  closely  absorbed  in  conver- 
sation with  Mr.  Miller,  the  manager,  who  sat  on  his 
right.  The  other  men  around  the  table  were  Vice- 
President  Brent,  Supt.  Smith,  Leonard  Harvey,  John 
Ward  and  Mathew  Whitworth,  the  last  two  being  the 
more  prominent  of  the  directors.  Roy  took  a  seat  on 
one  side  of  the  room,  waiting  until  Mr.  Miller  was  dis- 
engaged. As  he  did  so  Mr.  Armstrong  turned  to 
address  the  others  at  the  table.  Every  one  instantly 
ceased  talking,  and  the  room  became  so  quiet  that 
one  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  the  situation  to-night  is  ex- 
tremely critical.  We  are  virtually  sitting  on  a  powder 
magazine  which  needs  only  a  spark  to  explode.  Mr. 
Miller  informs  me  that  a  committee  from  the  Union 
called  here  this  morning  and  presented  an  ultimatum 
to  the  effect  that  unless  the  demands  were  complied 
with  ten  thousand  men  would  be  ordered  to  quit  work 
next  Monday  morning.  That  is  why  you  have  all 
been  summoned  here  to-day." 


THE    GAME  281 

"  Let  them  strike!  "  interrupted  a  director;  "  they'll 
soon  come  to  their  senses  when  they're  starving." 

"  It's  an  outrage  that  we  should  permit  the  Union 
to  dictate  to  us,"  said  another. 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  Mr.  Brent,  "  that  is  just  the 
point.  The  Union  has  gone  too  far.  It  has  abused  its 
power.  If  we  give  way  in  this  instance,  we  shall 
never  again  be  masters  of  our  own  property.  It  is 
not  a  question  of  granting  the  trifling  concession 
asked.  It  is  a  question  of  principle." 

Cries  of  "  Hear !  hear !  "  came  from  all  sides  of  the 
table. 

Mr.  Armstrong  raised  his  hand  to  impose  silence. 

"  You  are  all  familiar,"  he  said,  "  with  the  situation. 
Up  to  two  years  ago  our  workmen  were  paid  on  a 
permanent  yearly  basis,  but  I  then  suggested  a  sliding 
scale  of  wages.  The  men  objected  to  this,  preferring 
the  old  method.  The  sliding  scale,  of  course,  would 
necessarily  be  controlled  by  the  fluctuations  of  the 
steel  market.  It  was  my  desire  that  wages  should  cor- 
respond with  the  earnings  of  the  company.  The  ton- 
nage men  presented  a  fixed  scale  to  us.  We  refused 
and  a  strike  followed.  We  then  took  steps  to  protect 
our  property,  and  fifty  special  officers  were  put  in 
charge  of  the  plant.  They  came  here,  but  were  driven 
back  by  the  strikers.  Finally,  peace  was  patched  up, 
the  men  accepted  the  principle  of  the  sliding  scale,  at 
the  minimum  price  of  $25  per  ton.  That  contract  was 


282  THE    END    OF 

for  two  years.  Since  then  the  price  of  steel  has  gone 
down  to  $20  but  the  men  were  still  getting  paid  at 
the  $25  rate.  This  was  manifestly  unfair  to  the  com- 
pany, so  we  refused  to  sign  a  new  contract.  There- 
upon the  Union  assumed  its  present  hostile  attitude. 
They  claim  to  have  the  support  of  practically  every 
man  in  our  employ  and  declare  that  unless  we  yield 
they  will  force  us  to  shut  down.  Next  Monday  their 
ultimatum  expires.  We  have  just  a  week  to  decide. 
That,  gentlemen,  is  the  situation.  Now  what  are  wfc 
going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

"  Do?  "  angrily  shouted  Mr.  Brent.  "  There's  only 
one  thing  to  do — kick  out  the  malcontents  and  give 
other  men  their  jobs.  The  plant  must  be  kept  going 
at  all  hazards.  Discharge  the  trouble  makers  and 
replace  instantly  every  man  who  fails  to  report  for 
work.  There  is  only  one  way  to  handle  men  of  that 
class — show  them  you're  not  afraid !  " 

Richard  Brent,  vice-president  of  the  Excelsior  Steel 
Company,  was  a  hard-featured,  arrogant  man  with  a 
self-satisfied,  aggressive  manner.  He  was  one  of  those 
conscienceless  egotists  who  bring  discredit  upon  the 
whole  capitalist  class — men  who  look  upon  the  work- 
ing-man as  a  species  of  superior  animal,  born  into  the 
world  for  their  special  benefit,  unwilling  to  admit  that 
he  is  a  human  being  with  a  heart  and  soul  like  them- 
selves, swayed  by  the  same  emotions,  filled  with  the 
same  desires  and  aspirations,  and  ignoring  entirely 


THE   GAME  283 

the  fact  that  after  all  the  working-man  is  the  real  pro- 
ducer of  the  world's  wealth.  Mr.  Armstrong's  policy 
with  his  men  had  always  been  conciliatory,  but  Brent 
believed  in  the  mailed  fist. 

Mr.  Miller,  who  had  turned  in  his  seat,  now  caught 
sight  of  Roy  for  the  first  time.  H>e  gave  him  a 
friendly  nod  and  whispered  something  in  Mr.  Arm- 
strong's ear,  pointing  at  the  same  time  in  Roy's  direc- 
tion. Mr.  Armstrong  had  not  yet  seen  the  energetic 
young  superintendent  of  whom  he  had  heard  many 
favorable  reports,  and  Roy,  without  actually  seeing, 
could  feel  that  the  great  ironmaster's  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  him,  taking  him  in  from  head  to  foot.  The  close 
scrutiny  made  him  nervous  and  ill  at  ease.  He  won- 
dered why  they  had  sent  for  him  since  they  did  not 
appear  to  need  him,  and  he  was  weighing  the  chances 
of  being  able  to  slip  out  unobserved  when  suddenly 
Mr.  Miller  called: 

"  Marshall !  " 

Roy  rose  to  his  feet,  and  advanced  toward  the  table 
covered  by  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes.  Mr.  Miller  intro- 
duced him: 

"  Gentlemen,  this  is  Roy  Marshall,  one  of  our 
younger  superintendents.  He  has  been  with  the  com- 
pany only  a  little  over  a  year,  but  has  proved  a  highly 
expert  and  valuable  man."  Turning  to  Roy  he  added : 
"  Marshall,  this  is  Mr.  Armstrong — Mr.  Brent  and 


284  THE   END    OF 

directors  of  the  company.  Tell  us  what  you  know  of 
the  feeling  in  the  shops." 

Thus  invited,  Roy  told  all  he  knew  about  the  threat- 
ened strike.  The  men,  excited  by  professional  agita- 
tors, seemed  indeed  earnest  about  forcing  the  Com- 
pany to  renew  the  old  contract  and  in  case  of  refusal 
were  determined  to  go  out.  The  leaders,  he  went  on, 
met  in  secret  session  nightly — he  did  not  inculpate 
Schultz,  for  after  all  he  was  their  neighbor — and  he 
had  no  doubt  that  the  Union's  officers  were  making 
elaborate  preparations  for  a  long  struggle.  They  had 
told  the  men  they  were  sure  of  victory  and  the  men 
believed  it.  In  his  opinion  every  man  would  go  out 
and  stay  out  until  the  Union  ordered  him  back. 

"  If  the  men  refuse  to  come  back,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Brent,  "  we'll  bring  workmen  from  other  cities  to  take 
their  places.  How  do  you  think  they'll  relish  that, 
Mr.  Superintendent?" 

"I  think,"  replied  Roy  calmly,  "that  to  bring 
strangers  here  will  be  to  invite  serious  trouble.  Argue 
with  a  man  and  he'll  argue  too,  and  possibly  you  may 
succeed  in  persuading  him  that  he  is  wrong.  Fight 
him  and  he'll  strike  back  viciously  without  reasoning. 
If  our  men  were  to  lose  their  jobs  it  would  go  pretty 
hard  with  themselves  and  families,  sir.  They 
wouldn't  be  human  if  they  didn't  resent  it.  After  all 
they're  only  obeying  the  orders  of  their  Union.  It's 
the  Union  that's  your  enemy,  not  your  workmen.  If 


THE   GAME  285 

there's  a  long  strike,  they  will  be  the  only  victims.  I 
earnestly  suggest  that  every  effort  be  made  to  con- 
vince the  men  that  they  are  in  the  wrong  before  invit- 
ing other  workmen  here  or  proceeding  to  extremities 
of  any  kind." 

A  buzz  of  whispered  comments  ran  round  the  table. 
Mr.  Armstrong  nodded  approvingly,  as  did  Superin- 
tendent Smith,  and  one  or  two  others,  but  it  was  plain 
to  see  that  the  majority  favored  stronger  measures. 

"  The  superintendent  is  right,  Brent,"  said  Mr. 
Armstrong ;  "  we  don't  want  to  be  too  hasty  with  the 
men.  Perhaps  we  can  still  compromise  in  some  way 
or  submit  the  matter  to  arbitration." 

"  Impossible !  "  cried  Mr.  Brent,  bringing  his  fist 
down  violently  on  the  table.  "  Rather  than  do  either 
I'll  resign  from  the  Company  and  I  believe  the  major- 
ity of  my  fellow  directors  will  follow  me." 

Murmurs  of  Aye !  Aye !  came  from  several  of  those 
present.  Mr.  Brent,  his  face  congested  from  sup- 
pressed anger,  continued: 

"  If  we  admit  the  idea  of  arbitration  we  might  as 
well  throw  up  our  hands  and  prepare  to  submit  to  the 
tyranny  of  the  Union.  I  am  willing  to  concede  that 
we  are  not  fighting  our  men.  We  are  fighting  the 
Union,  but  since  they  set  our  men  against  us  we  must 
defend  ourselves.  If  we  are  to  win,  we  must  keep  our 
mills  going." 

"  That's  my  view !  "  chimed  in  a  director. 


286  THE   END    OF 

Every  one  looked  at  Mr.  Armstrong.  As  founder 
and  president  of  the  company  his  views  would  prob- 
ably prevail,  although  it  was  hardly  likely  that  he 
would  quarrel  with  Mr.  Brent,  nor  interfere  with  Mr. 
Miller,  to  whom  he  had  always  left  the  management 
of  the  men.  Some  one  asked  Superintendent  Smith 
what  his  views  were : 

"  I'm  a  workman  myself,"  replied  the  grizzled  vet- 
eran of  a  hundred  labor  wars,  "  and  my  sympathies 
are  with  the  working-men  all  the  time.  A  strike's  a 
terrible  thing.  Where  compromise  is  possible  it  is 
the  best  way  out,  but  if  there  is  nothing  to  compromise 
what  are  you  going  to  do?  The  men  are  all  right. 
It's  the  Union  that's  knocking  you.  I  agree  with  Mr. 
Brent  and  Mr.  Miller  that  you  can't  afford  to  show 
the  white  feather  to  the  Union." 

"  That's  what  I  say !  "  cried  another  director. 

Mr.  Armstrong  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  he  said : 

"  Very  well,  Brent,  have  it  your  way.  I  have  al- 
ways been  ready  to  compromise  labor  disputes  because 
I  believe  there  are  always  two  sides  to  a  question.  I 
have  been  in  this  business  fifteen  years  and  have  never 
had  a  serious  quarrel  with  my  workmen.  They  under- 
stand me.  I  understand  them.  But  I  agree  with  Mr. 
Brent  and  Mr.  Miller  that  the  present  difficulty  has 
not  been  created  by  the  men  so  much  as  by  the  Union, 
which  abuses  its  power.  I  am  therefore  willing  to 


THE  GAME  287 

cast  my  vote  in  favor  of  letting  you  gentlemen  go 
ahead  and  do  what  you  think  proper  to  protect  the  in- 
terests and  property  of  this  Company.  The  only  thing 
I  ask  is,  don't  let  the  women  and  children  suffer." 

A  murmur  of  approval  ran  all  round  the  table.  Mr. 
Brent  was  jubilant. 

"  Now  we  are  free  to  act,"  he  cried.  Then  seizing 
a  telegram  blank  he  hurriedly  wrote  a  few  words  on 
it,  and  tossed  it  across  the  table  to  Leonard  Harvey. 
"  Here,  Harvey,  rush  this  at  once  to  the  telegraph 
office." 

Harvey  immediately  left  the  room  with  the  despatch 
and  Mr.  Brent  turned  to  his  colleagues  to  explain : 

"  There's  only  one  way  to  fight  workmen — make 
them  feel  the  hopelessness  of  resistance.  Display 
weakness  and  you  are  lost.  Our  shops  must  be  kept 
open,  not  a  fire  must  go  out,  not  a  furnace  shut  down. 
We  must  carry  on  our  business  as  usual — without 
violence,  if  possible ;  with  violence,  if  necessary.  Mr. 
Miller  will  immediately  secure  a  number  of  carpenters 
and  erect  a  strong  stockade  all  round  the  works.  It 
should  be  from  ten  to  twelve  feet  high  and  pierced  at 
regular  intervals  with  holes  for  rifle  fire.  No  striker 
will  be  permitted  to  approach  the  stockade.  If  the  men 
go  out  they  will  not  be  allowed  to  come  back  and  the 
stockade  will  keep  them  out.  It  will  serve  also  to 
protect  the  men  we  propose  to  bring  from  other  cities." 

"  But  suppose  the  strikers  reach  the  stockade  and 


/ 


288  THE    END    OF 

wreck  the  shops  and  machinery,"  demanded  a  director. 

"  I  have  provided  for  that,"  said  Mr.  Brent  calmly. 
"  If  a  man  approaches  the  stockade  with  hostile  intent 
it  will  be  at  the  risk  of  his  life.  I  have  just  telegraphed 
to  the  Pinkerton  Agency  at  Philadelphia  for  three  hun- 
dred armed  deputies.  They  will  defend  our  property 
and  prevent  any  one  entering.  If  they  are  not  strong 
enough  we'll  make  a  demand  upon  the  sheriff  to  call 
out  the  entire  military  force  of  Pennsylvania." 

Murmurs  of  satisfaction  on  every  hand  indicated 
that  the  board  approved  the  energetic  policy  to  be 
pursued. 

"  Now,"  continued  Mr.  Brent,  "  there  is  nothing 
to  be  done  but  await  developments.  Mr.  Miller,  we 
appoint  you  general  in  command  of  the  Company's 
defensive  forces.  You  will  immediately  proceed  with 
the  erection  of  the  stockade.  When  the  deputies  arrive 
they  will  come  on  barges  by  way  of  the  river — you 
will  see  that  they  get  inside  the  stockade  safely.  If 
the  people  hear  of  their  coming,  they  may  make 
trouble,  so  be  prepared.  Superintendent  Smith  will 
render  you  all  the  assistance  you  need  and  he  will 
have  under  him  Leonard  Harvey  and  Roy  Marshall, 
and  as  many  more  of  their  men  as  can  be  depended 
upon.  That  is  all.  And  now,  gentlemen,  I  move  that 
we  adjourn." 

The  meeting  broke  up  and  Roy  was  making  his  way 


THE   GAME  289 

to  the  door  when  a  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder.    He 
turned  and  saw  Mr.  Armstrong. 

"  When  this  trouble  is  over,"  said  the  ironmaster  in 
a  friendly  tone,  "  come  to  see  me.  I  want  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  you." 


290  THE   END   OF 


CHAPTER   X 

MONDAY  came  and  went.  The  Company  de- 
clined to  pay  any  attention  to  the  ultima- 
tum, and  the  next  morning  the  strike  was 
formally  declared.  Nine  thousand  five  hundred  of 
the  total  force  of  ten  thousand  men  employed  in  the 
Excelsior  Steel  Works  laid  down  their  tools  and 
walked  out.  Up  to  the  last  minute  the  officers  of 
the  Union  had  been  confident  that  the  Company  would 
weaken.  It  seemed  incredible  that  it  would  reject  the 
demands  of  ten  thousand  men  and  paralyze  its  entire 
plant  without  making  at  least  an  effort  toward  a  recon- 
ciliation. But  at  a  final  conference  the  labor  dele- 
gates argued  in  vain.  Messrs.  Brent  and  Miller  were 
willing  to  concede  several  minor  points,  but  on  the 
question  of  the  wages  scale  they  were  immovable  as 
a  rock.  The  delegates  said  it  must  be  all  or  nothing. 
Messrs.  Brent  and  Miller  then  declared  the  meeting 
at  an  end,  and  gave  notice  that  every  man  who  de- 
serted his  post  would  be  replaced  by  a  non-union 
workman. 

All  hope  of  a  peaceful  settlement  seemed,  therefore, 
at  an  end.  There  was  every  prospect  of  a  long  and 
bitter  struggle.  The  steel  plant  had  shut  down  com- 


THE    GAME  291 

pletely,  the  fires  were  extinguished,  the  shops  were 
deserted,  a  lugubrious  silence  now  reigned  where  only 
a  few  days  before  was  a  scene  of  feverish  activity  and 
deafening  noise.  The  only  signs  of  life  about  the 
place  were  the  going  and  coming  of  a  handful  of  super- 
intendents and  watchmen,  and  half-a-dozen  different 
gangs  of  carpenters  who  were  building  with  surprising 
rapidity  a  formidable-looking  fence.  This  fence,  or 
stockade,  was  constructed  of  stout  pine  planks,  of 
double  thickness,  and  put  up  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
encircle  completely  the  company's  premises.  It  was 
about  twelve  feet  high  and  strongly  barricaded  on 
the  inner  side.  Little  short  of  cannon  could  demolish 
it.  On  the  top  ran  rows  of  barbed  wire,  making  scal- 
ing impossible,  while  every  twenty  feet  or  so  had  been 
pierced  holes,  through  which  the  defenders  could  re- 
pel a  rush,  either  by  rifle-fire  or  streams  of  cold  or 
hot  water. 

But  so  far  there  were  no  signs  of  trouble.  The 
majority  of  the  workmen  were  disposed  to  be  orderly. 
By  order  of  the  mayor  the  saloons  were  closed,  and 
the  strike  leaders  urged  the  men  to  be  calm.  Then 
came  the  rumor  that  the  Company  was  determined  to 
start  up  again  with  non-union  men.  The  sight  of 
the  stockade  in  course  of  erection  had  already  an- 
gered the  men ;  the  fear  that  they  might  lose  their 
jobs  permanently  rendered  them  furious. 

At  Glendale  the  news  of  the  strike  had  been  received 


292  THE    END    OF 

with  different  emotions.  In  the  Schultz  cottage  there 
was  unbridled  jubilation.  The  German  foreman  took 
all  the  credit  to  himself,  and  as  one  of  the  strike 
leaders  was  now  a  person  of  distinction.  He  was 
seen  and  heard  everywhere,  and  with  his  loud  voice 
and  extravagance  of  language  he  had  succeeded  in 
impressing  many  people  with  his  importance. 

"  Vot  I  tell  you  ?  "  was  his  favorite  greeting.  "  Ve 
vill  show  dose  pigs  of  capitalists  dat  de  people  is  king 
in  America.  Not  a  furnace  shall  be  lighted,  not  a 
wheel  shall  turn  vidout  our  permission !  " 

In  the  Marshall  home  the  serious  turn  events  had 
taken  caused  both  regret  and  apprehension.  Eunice 
was  full  of  sympathy  for  the  poor  deluded  working- 
men  dragged  into  this  senseless  struggle  against  their 
wills.  They  were  merely  the  victims  of  self-seeking 
agitators.  Their  hard-earned  savings  would  go,  they 
would  run  into  debt,  and  have  to  suffer  all  kinds  of 
privations — for  what?  If  they  had  a  substantial 
grievance  it  would  be  different,  then  they  would  be 
fighting  for  their  daily  bread,  for  their  very  existence. 
But  Roy  was  right.  The  present  quarrel  was  nothing 
but  the  doing  of  firebrands  like  Schultz,  who  was  an 
avowed  enemy  of  capital  in  any  form,  a  radical  so- 
cialist, almost  an  anarchist.  The  Union  was  clearly 
in  the  wrong,  every  impartial  observer  admitted  that. 
It  had  not  a  champion  among  the  newspapers,  and  if 
it  met  with  defeat  in  this  struggle  the  cause  of  or- 


THE    GAME  293 

ganized  labor  would  receive  a  blow  from  which  it 
might  never  recover. 

Roy  had  never  joined  the  Union.  His  rise  from 
the  ranks  had  been  so  rapid  that  even  the  workmen 
themselves  had  never  identified  him  as  one  of  them- 
selves. Instinctively  they  addressed  him  as  "  Sir " 
when  speaking  to  him,  and  it  aroused  no  comment 
when,  on  the  outbreak  of  hostilities,  he  was  found  to 
be  on  the  Company's  side.  In  fact,  the  men  did  not 
expect  any  of  the  superintendents  to  join  them.  Su- 
perintendents Smith,  Harvey,  Marshall  and  a  few 
others  who  held  responsible  positions  were  generally 
looked  upon  as  Company's  men,  and  no  one  thought 
any  the  worse  of  them  for  it.  Harvey  had  at  no  time 
been  popular,  and  if  a  striker  had  accidentally  knocked 
him  on  the  head  no  one  would  have  lost  much  sleep 
over  it,  but  Roy  was  a  favorite,  and  it  would  have 
gone  hard  with  any  one  who  molested  him.  He  was 
allowed  to  come  and  go  past  the  strikers'  pickets  as 
he  chose,  and  he  was  always  greeted  with  a  cheery 
"  Good  morning."  Sometimes  a  wag  would  call  out, 
"  What's  the  Company  going  to  do  with  Fort  Ex- 
celsior when  they  get  it  finished  ?  "  but  beyond  good- 
natured  banter  of  this  kind  he  had  nothing  to  fear 
from  the  men. 

Yet  Eunice  lived  in  a  perfect  fever  of  apprehen- 
sion and  anxiety.  They  had  just  gone  through  one 
tragedy.  Another  would  kill  her.  Rov  was  almost 


294  THE   END    OF 

constantly  at  the  works,  day  and  night,  for  at  this 
crisis  the  Company  needed  the  services  of  every  man 
it  could  rely  upon.  Even  though  the  fires  were  out, 
things  had  to  be  looked  after  in  th€  shops,  or  else 
thousands  of  dollars'  worth  of  valuable  machinery 
would  be  ruined,  and  rendered  fit  only  for  the  scrap 
heap.  Besides,  he  was  one  of  the  defending  force, 
and  any  moment  the  strikers  might  take  it  in  their 
heads  to  rush  the  stockade,  and  then  real  fighting 
would  begin.  Roy,  of  course,  made  light  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  laughed  at  the  idea  of  his  being  in  any  dan- 
ger, but  Eunice,  by  degrees,  learned  about  the  build- 
ing of  the  fortified  fence,  which  in  itself  suggested 
the  expectation  of  attack,  and  also  about  the  Pinker- 
ton  guards,  an  injudicious  step  which  she  felt  sure 
would  infuriate  the  workmen  and  excite  them  to  the 
worst  excesses.  She  was  terribly  worried,  and  knew 
no  peace  until  she  saw  Roy  safely  home  each  evening. 

"  Please  don't  go,  Roy,"  she  pleaded.  "  I  am  dread- 
fully nervous  all  the  time  you  are  away.  I  imagine 
all  kinds  of  dreadful  things.  I'd  rather  you  gave  up 
the  place  altogether  than  run  any  risk." 

"  Nonsense,  child,"  he  said  soothingly.  "  Would 
you  have  your  husband  show  himself  a  poltroon? 
There  is  work  to  be  done,  and  I  must  do  it.  There 
isn't  really  the  slightest  danger.  Besides,  when  this 
fuss  is  over  promotion  will  come  quicker  than  ever. 
The  Company  will  go  on  growing,  and  I  will  grow 


THE    GAME  295 

with  it.  Didn't  I  tell  you  how  Mr.  Armstrong  told 
me  to  call  and  see  him?  That  can  mean  only  one 
thing.  They  are  going  to  better  my  position.  There 
is  no  telling  where  I  may  land." 

The  outlook  was  certainly  most  hopeful  and  en- 
couraging as  far  as  their  own  interests  were  con- 
cerned. Roy  was  unquestionably  making  phenomenal 
progress,  and  it  was  only  a  question  of  time  when  he 
would  be  one  of  the  biggest  men  in  the  steel  business. 
Eunice  realized  all  this,  and  of  course  it  made  her 
very  happy.  She  knew  it  was  the  wife's  duty  to  pro- 
mote her  husband's  success  in  every  way  possible,  and 
in  the  hour  of  anxiety  and  doubt  to  show  moral  force 
and  courage.  It  was  with  a  smile,  therefore,  that  she 
let  Roy  return  to  his  duty  at  the  works,  and  after  his 
departure  she  prayed  earnestly  to  the  mysterious 
Power  who  directs  all  things  to  shield  from  harm 
the  man  she  loved. 

"  Promise  me,"  she  had  said,  "  you  won't  incur  any 
unnecessary  risk." 

"  I  promise,"  he  had  replied,  laughingly. 

As  he  went  through  the  dirty,  ill-paved  streets  on 
his  way  to  the  works  he  noticed  on  every  hand  signs 
of  unusual  commotion.  Something  was  on  foot,  and 
his  pulse  quickened  as  instinct  told  him  the  crisis 
had  come  at  last.  Up  to  the  present,  the  behavior  of 
the  steel  workers  had  been  so  quiet  and  orderly  that 
no  stranger  would  have  guessed  a  strike  was  in  prog- 


296  THE   END    OF 

ress,  but  now  there  were  unmistakable  symptoms 
of  an  approaching  storm.  Groups  of  men,  assembled 
on  street  corners,  were  engaged  in  heated  discussion. 
Others  were  shouting  and  gesticulating.  Women  and 
boys  ran  from  every  direction,  congesting  the  thor- 
oughfares, contributing  to  the  general  confusion  and 
uproar. 

"  Down  with  the  scabs !  "  shouted  a  voice. 

The  cry  was  taken  up  by  twenty  others. 

"  Down  with  the  scabs !  Down  with  the  Pinker- 
tons!" 

"  Ah,"  thought  Roy,  "  that  was  it— they  had  learned 
about  the  coming  of  the  Pinkerton  guards,  and  the 
news  had  goaded  them  to  a  frenzy." 

The  crowd  grew  thicker  and  more  threatening  every 
moment.  Angry  mutterings  and  open  threats  of  vio- 
lence were  to  be  heard  on  all  sides.  There  was  a  far- 
away rumbling  of  rough  voices  and  the  tramping  of 
many  feet,  which  sounded  like  a  distant  roar.  The 
very  air  seemed  heavy  with  the  growing  resentment 
of  an  outraged  people,  ready  to  explode  at  any  time 
like  an  electrically  charged  cloud. 

Roy  elbowed  his  way, .  unrecognized,  through  the 
turbulent  throngs,  and  soon  found  himself  safe  in- 
side the  stockade,  the  heavy  gates  of  which  had  been 
closed.  Within,  he  found  watching  the  crowds, 
through  the  port-holes,  Mr.  Miller,  Superintendent 
Smith,  Leonard  Harvey  and  about  a  dozen  watch- 


THE    GAME  297 

*nen.  Mr.  Brent,  the  fire-eating  vice-president,  and 
the  real  cause  of  the  people's  wrath,  was,  of  course, 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  Hello,  Marshall,"  cried  Mr.  Miller,  "  I'm  glad  to 
see  you.  We  feared  you  wouldn't  get  through.  What 
did  you  see  outside  ?  " 

"  Hundreds  of  men  and  boys,  armed  with  guns, 
sticks  and  stones,  are  running  toward  the  river. 
What's  the  trouble?" 

It  was  as  he  surmised.  News  had  just  come  that 
the  Pinkerton  guards  were  being  towed  up  the  river 
on  two  barges.  In  fact,  they  were  already  sighted. 
The  strikers  were  infuriated,  and  were  going  to  try 
to  prevent  the  landing. 

Turning  to  the  little  group  around  him,  Mr.  Miller 
said: 

"  Now,  boys,  we  haven't  an  instant  to  lose.  We 
must  make  a  sortie,  reach  the  river  bank  before  the 
men  and  strain  every  effort  to  get  the  deputies  landed 
and  safe  inside  the  enclosure.  Once  they  are  here 
the  Company  will  be  in  a  position  to  dictate  its  own 
terms." 

"  I  guess  not,"  drawled  Superintendent  Smith. 
"  That's  smart  strategy,  maybe,  but  I'm  darned  if 
I  can  see  how  a  dozen  men  are  going  to  get  the  drop 
on  ten  thousand." 

"  Nor  I,"  chimed  in  Harvey.  "  It's  folly  to  attempt 
it.  If  we  show  our  faces  outside  the  stockade  with  the 


298  THE    END    OF 

mob  in  that  mood  I  wouldn't  give  a  cent  for  our  lives !  " 

"  'Tain't  no  kinder  use  makin'  a  sorty,"  added  Su- 
perintendent Smith,  with  the  authoritative  air  of  a 
general  studying  a  battlefield.  "  We'd  simply  be  gob- 
bled up.  They'd  eat  us  alive,  man,  and  then  what 
use  could  we  be  to  the  Company?  The  only  practical 
plan  is  to  remain  here  on  the  defensive,  repel  any  at- 
tack made  on  the  stockade  and  despatch  a  messenger 
down  to  the  barges  with  instructions  to  the  Pinkerton 
fellers  to  hustle  up  here  as  fast  as  they  can." 

This  suggestion  seemed  to  meet  with  every  one's 
approval,  and  even  Mr.  Miller  had  enough  respect 
for  the  veteran's  experience  to  consider  his  plan  an 
improvement  on  his  own. 

"  But  who  will  be  the  messenger?  "  he  objected. 

No  one  volunteered.  Roy  itched  to  step  forward, 
but  remembered  his  promise  to  Eunice,  and  was  si- 
lent. Harvey  was  deeply  absorbed  in  the  highly  im- 
portant task  of  manicuring  his  nails,  and  the  other 
men  looked  sheepishly  in  other  directions,  all  except 
Superintendent  Smith,  who  rightly  considered  him- 
self too  old  to  be  included  in  the  eligible  class.  There 
was  an  embarrassing  pause,  and  then  Mr.  Miller  re- 
peated : 

"  Come,  boys,  there's  no  time  to  be  lost.  The  barges 
are  in  sight.  Who  will  volunteer  ?  " 

Roy,  unable  to  keep  back  any  longer,  stepped  for^ 
ward. 


THE  GAME  299 

"I'll  go,  sir." 

"  Bully  for  you,  Marshall  I  I'm  glad  to  see  some 
one's  got  a  little  grit." 

He  had  not  been  able  to  resist.  He  could  not  hear 
i  call  for  a  volunteer  and  stand  there,  feeling  like  a 
coward.  What  danger  was  there,  anyhow  ?  One  man 
acting  alone  and  lost  in  such  a  big  crowd  was  infinitely 
safer  than  two  dozen  men  acting  together  conspicu- 
ously. 

Mr.  Miller  gave  him  his  instructions,  which  were 
to  establish  communications  with  the  barges  and  help 
the  deputies  to  reach  the  fort  with  all  possible  speed. 
In  order  to  avoid  recognition,  he  hastily  donned  a 
suit  of  soiled  overalls,  which  he  borrowed  from  one 
of  the  shops,  and  a  greasy  cap,  which  he  pulled  well 
over  his  eyes.  Thus  equipped,  he  slipped  out  of  the 
enclosure  by  a  side  door,  and  once  more  found  him- 
self on  the  street. 

No  one  noticed  him.  He  was  merely  one  of  the 
vast  horde  of  thousands  of  working  men,  women  and 
children  which,  like  some  turbulent,  resistless  torrent, 
poured  in  a  steady  stream  in  the  direction  of  the  river, 
all  intent  on  one  fixed  purpose — the  repulse  of  the 
hired  mercenaries.  At  turns  in  the  road  the  crush 
was  so  great  and  the  crowd  so  dense  and  boisterous 
that  frequently  Roy  was  carried  off  his  feet.  The 
men,  with  an  expression  of  grim  determination  on 
their  faces,  and  many  carrying  rifles  and  revolvers, 


300  THE    END    OF 

shouted  and  cursed  as  they  marched  in  measured 
tread ;  some  of  the  women,  especially  those  of  foreign 
birth,  gesticulated  wildly  and  sang  revolutionary 
songs  in  shrill  strident  voices;  while  the  boys  and 
girls,  regarding  the  whole  affair  as  a  pleasure  jaunt, 
enjoyed  the  excitement  and  filled  their  pockets  and 
aprons  with  stones.  At  one  part  of  the  road  they 
overtook  a  party  of  men,  who  were  painfully  dragging 
along  on  wheels  taken  from  a  perambulator  an  old- 
fashioned  cannon,  a  dilapidated  affair  which  did  ser- 
vice on  Decoration  Day  for  patriotic  salutes,  but  now 
to  be  put  to  sterner  use.  The  whole  scene  recalled 
vividly  to  Roy's  mind  pictures  he  had  seen  and  ac- 
counts he  had  read  of  the  march  of  the  Parisian  furies 
to  Versailles  during  the  early  days  of  the  French 
Revolution. 

The  situation,  decidedly,  was  more  serious  than 
suspected.  Mr.  Brent's  policy  had  raised  a  tempest, 
the  destructive  effects  of  which  none  could  foretell. 
With  a  horde  of  sullen,  swarthy  Huns  and  Slavs 
worked  up  to  such  a  pitch  of  frenzy  there  was  no 
knowing  what  might  happen. 

Suddenly  a  man  appeared,  running,  coming  from 
the  direction  in  which  the  mob  was  headed.  He  was 
a  prominent  strike  leader,  and  the  serried  ranks  of 
workmen  opened  to  let  him  pass. 

"  They're  coming !    They're  coming !  "  he  cried  ex 


THE   GAME  301 

citedly.  "  The  Pinkertons  are  here  I  Quick — to  the 
river !  Don't  let  a  single  son come  ashore  1 " 

"  We  won't !  We  won't ! "  roared  the  crowd. 
"  We'll  drown  them  like  rats !  " 

The  rhythmic  tramp  of  labor's  army  quickened  into 
a  double,  then  became  a  run,  finally  ending  in  a  gen- 
eral stampede,  men,  women  and  children  racing  like 
mad  down  the  incline,  vociferating  and  yelling.  Pres- 
ently, at  a  turn  in  the  road  the  river  came  in  view 
and  now  Roy  saw  a  strange  spectacle. 

For  more  than  two  miles  the  river  bank  was  black 
with  people — a  vast  crowd  of  twenty  thousand  human 
beings,  some  sitting,  others  standing,  all  grimly  watch- 
ing the  gradual  approach  of  two  black  barges  which 
were  on  the  river  below  in  tow  of  two  steamers.  But 
what  held  Roy's  attention  more  than  anything  else 
was  the  extraordinary  attitude  of  the  crowd.  A  few 
moments  ago  it  had  been  in  frenzied  uproar,  the  noise 
had  been  deafening,  but  now  a  sudden  and  unnatural 
hush  had  fallen  over  the  vast  assemblage.  No  order 
to  that  effect  had  been  given  by  the  leaders.  By  gen- 
eral consent  every  man,  woman  and  child  dropped  into 
a  deep  silence;  not  a  shout  was  raised,  not  a  voice 
heard.  If  any  one  spoke  it  was  in  whispers.  It  was 
as  if  a  giant  audience  in  a  colossal  auditorium  were 
awaiting  the  final  act  of  a  tragedy. 

Roy  made  his  way  quickly  and  unostentatiously 
down  to  the  river  bank,  pressing  his  way  gradually 


302  THE  END   OF 

toward  the  point  where  he  had  expected  the  barges 
would  try  to  effect  a  landing.  He  passed  several  men 
who  worked  in  his  own  shop  and  who  knew  him  as 
well  as  they  did  themselves,  but  the  excitement  and 
confusion  was  such  that  no  one  paid  attention  to 
any  one  else.  The  crowd  was  thickest  at  the  dock,  the 
strikers  having  gathered  there  in  force,  while  some 
fifty  yards  further  back  on  the  slope,  they  were  busy 
planting  the  cannon,  for  the  evident  purpose  of  sweep- 
ing the  dock  with  shot  in  case  the  deputies,  depending 
on  their  military  discipline  and  quick-firing  Win- 
chesters, should  make  a  dash  and  reach  the  shore. 

For  the  first  time  Roy  now  fully  realized  the  serious- 
ness of  the  situation,  and  his  own  helplessness.  This 
was  no  child's  play.  The  men  were  determined  the 
Pinkertons  should  not  land,  and  human  life  would  be 
sacrificed  if  they  attempted  it.  Bloodshed  seemed  in- 
evitable either  way.  It  was  not  likely  that  the  barges 
would  return  without  making  at  least  an  attempt  and 
that  would  be  the  signal  for  firing  on  both  sides. 
What  could  he  do — single-handed  against  a  multitude 
in  delirium?  He  probably  would  not  have  a  chance 
to  even  get  near  the  deputies. 

He  turned  to  the  river  to  watch  the  boats.  The  tugs 
had  stopped,  their  pilots  hesitating  to  proceed.  It  had 
been  anticipated  that  the  landing  of  the  deputies  would 
be  opposed,  but  no  one  had  foreseen  a  popular  demon- 
stration of  such  magnitude.  Yet  they  could  not  turn 


THE   GAME  303 

tail,  like  so  many  whipped  mongrels,  without  making 
at  least  an  effort  to  execute  the  orders  of  their  em- 
ployers. The  deputies  hung  back,  not  liking  the  looks 
of  the  mob,  but  their  chiefs  encouraged  them.  It  was 
more  than  likely  that  the  workmen  would  run  like 
sheep  directly  they  saw  the  loaded  Winchesters.  At 
such  times  a  handful  of  determined,  disciplined  men 
can  easily  overawe  and  demoralize  a  rabble  of  thou- 
sands. So  after  a  brief  conference  the  deputies  de- 
cided to  go  on  and  the  boats  once  more  headed  to- 
ward the  shore. 

The  strikers  had  followed  the  manoeuvres  in  sullen 
silence.  It  was  half  expected  that  the  barges  would 
turn  back,  and  an  almost  imperceptible  murmur  of 
disappointment  passed  through  the  crowd  when  they 
feared  that  their  prey  might  yet  escape  their  wrath. 
But  when  the  tugs  suddenly  gave  a  quick  half  turn, 
and  headed  full  speed  for  the  dock,  the  voices  of  the 
thousands  that  lined  the  shore  sent  up  a  savage,  ex- 
ultant yell  that  echoed  among  the  hills  miles  away. 

As  the  first  barge  swung  close  to  the  dock  and  made 
fast,  a  number  of  strikers,  Schultz  prominent  among 
them,  rushed  forward  brandishing  sticks  and  fists. 

"  Get  away  from  that  dock !  "  they  cried.  "  You 
can't  land  here !  The  first  man  who  attempts  to  come 
ashore  does  it  at  the  peril  of  his  life." 

The  now  thoroughly  frightened  deputies  could  be 
seen  huddled  inside  the  barge,  peering  through  port- 


304  THE   END    OF 

holes,  arguing  with  their  chiefs,  who  were  trying  to 
give  them  courage.  The  pilot  of  the  tug  sought  to 
gain  time  by  parleying,  but  it  was  of  no  avail. 

"  Cut  loose  from  that  dock !  "  shouted  the  striker 
again  angrily,  "  or  we'll  sink  yer !  " 

No  one  stirred.  The  barge  did  not  budge.  Inside, 
the  Pinkertons  were  forming  in  order  of  fours,  each 
man  a  Winchester  in  hand.  Roy,  seeing  that  they 
were  about  to  make  a  dash  for  the  shore,  ran  quickly 
down  to  the  dock  to  meet  them.  Suddenly,  something 
buzzed  close  by  his  ear. 

"Ping!" 

At  the  same  instant  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  barge 
fell  in  splinters  and  a  howl  of  pain  came  from  a  deputy 
inside. 

The  battle  was  on  and  Roy  had  narrowly  escaped 
a  speeding  bullet.  No  one  knew  who  fired  it.  The 
strikers  claimed  afterwards  that  it  came  from  the 
barge.  The  deputies  on  the  other  hand  showed  as 
evidence  the  shattered  window.  Anyhow  it  was  the 
shot  that  started  actual  hostilities.  The  deputies  in- 
stantly opened  fire  and  half  a  dozen  strikers  fell,  the 
rest  falling  back  in  confusion.  Roy,  in  order  to  escape 
the  rain  of  bullets,  had  fallen  flat  on  his  stomach,  and 
from  where  he  was  he  watched  the  progress  of  the 
fight. 

Thinking  that  the  strikers  were  in  full  flight,  the 
Pinkertons,  one  hundred  and  fifty  strong,  now  emerged 


THE    GAME  305 

triumphantly  from  the  barge,  and  lined  up  on  the  dock, 
preparing  to  advance.  But  the  strikers  were  far  from 
being  beaten.  When  they  had  recovered  from  their 
first  surprise  and  removed  their  dead  and  wounded 
they  advanced  again,  firing  as  they  went,  bullets 
mingling  with  the  shower  of  stones.  Most  of  the 
bullets  went  wild,  but  some  found  a  mark.  First 
one  Pinkerton  dropped,  then  another.  The  captain  of 
the  guards  gave  a  quick  command  and  instantly  came 
a  volley.  When  the  smoke  cleared  a  dozen  more 
strikers  were  stretched  out  on  the  ground. 

The  workmen  began  to  fall  back  again  and  victory 
appeared  to  rest  with  the  Pinkertons,  whose  second 
barge  now  tied  up  to  the  dock,  when  suddenly  there 
came  a  terrific  roar  and  concussion  that  shook  the 
ground.  The  men  had  fired  the  cannon,  loaded  to  its 
mouth  with  every  missile  procurable,  and  a  perfect 
rain  of  death  had  swept  the  ground  near  the  dock 
on  which  the  Pinkertons  stood.  Twenty  guards  were 
killed  outright  and  over  thirty  badly  injured.  Orders 
were  at  once  given  for  a  retreat  to  the  barges. 
Strikers  they  might  tackle,  but  to  face  cannon  was 
another  matter. 

The  mob  of  strikers  and  sympathizers,  which  had 
retired  to  a  prudent  distance  up  the  slope  on  the  out- 
break of  the  fighting,  yelled  with  fierce  delight.  A 
wild  roar  of  triumph  went  up  from  ten  thousand 
throats,  now  thirsty  for  human  blood. 


306  THE   END    OF 

"  Lynch  the  muruerers !  Death  to  the  Pinkertons ! 
Vengeance !  Vengeance !  " 

The  deputies  disappeared  inside  the  barge  and  kept 
up  a  desultory  shooting  from  inside,  while  the  strikers, 
growing  bold  with  success,  rained  on  the  enemy  a 
continuous  volley  of  bullets  and  stones.  Not  a  deputy 
dared  to  show  his  face  and  already  the  barges  were 
badly  damaged.  The  mob  now  tried  to  puncture  them 
below  the  water  line  so  they  would  sink  with  their 
human  freight,  and  with  this  object  in  view  the  cannon 
was  once  more  loaded  to  the  muzzle  and  fired.  The 
aim  was  excellent,  the  shot  shattering  a  large  part  of 
the  superstructure  and  setting  it  on  fire.  Shrieks  of 
joy  arose  from  the  mob,  as  they  hastened  to  reload. 
The  second  shot  was  still  more  accurate,  entering  the 
barge  some  inches  below  the  water. 

The  deputies  now  began  to  realize  the  peril  of  their 
position  and  very  soon  a  white  flag  appeared  above  the 
smoking  ruins  of  the  superstructure. 

Firing  ceased  and  Schultz  and  a  number  of  other 
strikers  advanced  to  parley. 

"  Do  you  surrender  ?  "  shouted  Schultz. 

"  Yes,"  came  the  reply  from  the  Pinkerton  captain. 

"  Come  out  then." 

"  Only  on  condition,"  answered  the  captain,  "  that 
our  men  retain  their  arms  and  be  allowed  to  take  train 
back  to  Philadelphia." 

"  Not  on  your  life !  "  shouted  Schultz.    "  You'll  lay 


THE   GAME  307 

down  your  arms  and  submit  to  arrest  on  charge  of 
murder.  If  you  don't  surrender  at  once  we'll  open  fire 
again  and  blow  you  to  hell !  " 

The  Pinkerton  disappeared  and  some  minutes  were 
passed  in  conference.  Then  he  reappeared. 

"  All  right !  "  he  said.    "  Unconditional  surrender !  " 

The  Pinkertons  began  to  swarm  out  of  the  burning 
barge  like  rats  from  a  sinking  ship,  and  the  whole 
hillside  of  strikers  and  their  friends  rushed  down  to 
greet  them. 

"  No  violence  to  the  prisoners !  "  shouted  Schultz. 
"The  men  have  surrendered  and  will  answer  to  the 
law!" 

Fifty  stalwart  steel  workers,  under  the  command 
of  Schultz,  constituted  themselves  a  special  escort 
for  the  discomfited  Pinkertons  who  were  to  be  handed 
over  to  the  police.  They  looked  a  sorry  lot,  their 
uniforms  torn  and  many  with  their  faces  bleeding. 
They  thought  their  troubles  were  ended  with  their 
arrest,  but  they  were  soon  undeceived.  It  was  no 
easy  matter  to  control  a  mob  once  its  passions  had 
been  aroused  and  the  strikers  were  bent  on  inflicting 
punishment  on  the  defenceless  guards,  law  or  no  law. 
In  spite  of  the  efforts  which  their  escort  made  to  pro- 
tect them  on  the  journey  from  the  river  to  the  city, 
the  crowd  constantly  broke  through  the  line,  striking 
at  them  savagely  with  clubs  and  hurling  stones  in  their 
faces.  One  unfortunate  had  his  jaw  smashed  in  this 


308  THE   END   OF 

manner,  another  had  an  arm  broken  and  all  were 
more  dead  than  alive  when  they  finally  reached  their 
destination. 

Long  before  this  Roy  had  seen  enough.  Directly 
he  caught  sight  of  the  white  flag  he  knew  it  was  use- 
less for  him  to  remain  there.  It  was  more  important 
that  he  should  hurry  back  to  the  works  and  report 
what  had  happened.  Rapidly  he  made  his  way  back  to 
the  stockade,  where  he  found  Mr.  Miller  and  all  the 
others  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  suspense  and  anxiety. 
They  had  heard  the  firing  and  feared  precisely  what 
had  happened.  The  question  now  was,  would  the 
mob,  flushed  with  its  victory,  proceed  to  make  a  hos- 
tile demonstration  against  the  stockade  ?  Roy  thought 
not.  The  strikers  had  accomplished  what  they  had 
set  out  to  do  and  it  was  likely  that  they  wotUd  be  sat- 
isfied with  that.  But  while  the  men  were  in  their 
present  mood,  it  would  be  suicidal  to  think  of  starting 
up  the  plant  with  non-union  men,  for  the  new-comers 
would  assuredly  meet  with  the  same  fate  as  the 
Pinkertons. 

Then  followed  some  lively  telegraphing.  Mr.  Miller 
informed  Mr.  Armstrong  and  Mr.  Brent  of  the  seri- 
ous situation  that  had  arisen,  and  he  called  upon  the 
sheriff  of  the  county  for  police  protection.  If  police 
were  not  strong  enough  to  save  the  works,  they  would 
make  a  demand  upon  the  Governor  for  the  militia. 

But  there  were  no  indications  of  immediate  danger. 


THE    GAME  309 

The  storm  was  followed  by  a  calm  which  led  many  to 
think  that  the  men  repented  of  their  hasty  action  and 
were  ready  to  return  to  work.  This,  however,  was  not 
the  case.  The  strikers  had  spent  their  fury  against 
the  Pinkertons,  but  otherwise  they  were  peaceably  dis- 
posed. They  had  gone  out  on  strike  for  a  principle 
and  they  were  determined  to  stay  out  until  the  Com- 
pany gave  way  on  the  wage  scale  question.  But  the 
battle  on  the  river  front  had  alarmed  Mr.  Brent  and 
the  other  directors  to  the  verge  of  panic.  To  keep  the 
plant  shut  down  meant  financial  ruin,  yet  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  they  attempted  to  run  the  works  with  non- 
union men  it  might  be  followed  by  the  worst  kind  of 
mob  violence.  Nothing,  therefore,  could  be  done  un- 
less with  the  support  of  the  overwhelming  military 
force,  so  frantic  efforts  were  at  once  made  to  induce 
the  Governor  to  order  out  the  militia.  The  executive 
was  loath  to  do  as  requested,  but  enormous  commer- 
cial interests  were  at  stake  and  powerful  influence 
was  brought  to  bear.  So  yielding  finally  to  public 
clamor,  the  military  machinery  of  the  State  of  Penn- 
sylvania was  set  in  motion.  Regiment  after  regiment 
was  sent  to  Pittsburg  until  the  region  assumed  the 
appearance  of  a  fortified  camp. 

It  was  only  when  Eunice  saw  the  soldiers  that  she 
breathed  freely.  On  the  day  of  the  fight  she  had  seen 
nothing  of  Roy  since  early  morning.  She  heard  the 
shouting  and  shooting  and  imagined  the  worst.  As 


3io  THE   END    OF 

the  day  wore  on  and  no  news  came  her  anxiety  was 
pitiful,  and  when,  a  little  later,  Mrs.  Schultz  burst  in 
with  the  news  that  the  strikers  had  shot  and  killed 
several  of  the  Company's  men,  she  nearly  swooned  in 
her  arms.  But  night  came  and  with  it  Roy,  looking 
none  the  worse  for  his  adventure,  and  Eunice  was 
once  more  the  happiest  woman  in  Glendale. 

For  the  next  three  months  matters  hung  fire,  the 
soldiers  weary  of  patrol  duty,  the  strikers  still  firm  in 
their  demands,  the  Company  slowly  but  surely  gaining 
ground.  Under  the  protection  of  the  military  a  large 
force  of  non-union  workmen  were  brought  in  from 
other  cities  and  although  these  new-comers  were 
hooted  as  "  scabs  "  and  greeted  with  derisive  jeers  no 
one  ventured  to  interfere  with  them.  Every  one  pre- 
dicted that  this  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.  The 
Excelsior  furnaces,  so  long  silent,  started  up,  one  after 
the  other,  and  soon  the  place  took  on  some  of  its  for- 
mer bustle  and  activity.  The  strike  leaders,  while 
urging  the  men  to  stand  firm,  dropped  out  one  by  one. 
Schultz  accepted  a  lucrative  city  job  and  other  fire- 
brands of  his  stamp  also  conveniently  disappeared 
from  view.  Then  the  inevitable  happened.  Seeing 
they  were  deserted  by  their  old  leaders,  the  rank  and 
file  became  demoralized,  and  there  ensued  a  stampede 
to  the  Company's  offices  to  secure  such  jobs  as  were 
still  to  be  had.  The  great  strike  was  ended  and  the 
power  of  the  Steel  Workers'  Union  broken  forever. 


THE    GAME  311 

One  day,  about  a  week  after  the  resumed  operations, 
racing  feverishly  day  and  night  to  catch  up  with  long- 
delayed  orders,  a  short  gray-headed  man  passed 
through  the  armor  plate  shop  on  a  tour  of  inspection. 
Catching  sight  of  Roy,  who  was  intent  on  a  piece  of 
work,  he  at  once  hailed  him: 

"  Hello,  Marshall — why  haven't  you  been  to  see 
me?" 

Roy  looked  up  and  when  he  saw  Mr.  Armstrong 
he  nearly  fell  over  from  sheer  surprise,  while  the  other 
workmen  whispered  and  nudged  each  other,  pointing 
to  the  great  ironmaster.  Roy  stammered  excuses. 

"  We've  been  so  busy  since  the  strike,  sir.  There's 
a  lot  to  be  done  and  I " 

"  That's  all  right,"  interrupted  the  big  man,  "  keep 
it  up,  but  don't  work  too  hard.  Take  a  day  off  to- 
morrow and  come  to  see  me.  We'll  have  a  little  talk." 


PART  III 
NIGHT 

'Had  we  never  loved  sae  kindly, 
Had  we  never  loved  sae  blindly, 
Never  met  or  never  parted, 
We  had  ne'er  been  broken-hearted."— Bums. 


CHAPTER  I 

1WISH  to  see  Mr.  Marshall." 
"Mr.  Marshall?"  echoed  the  haughty  clerk 
in  a  tone  of  injured  astonishment  at  the  au- 
dacity of  such  a  request.     "  Have  you  an  appointment 
with  Mr.  Marshall?" 

"  No,  I  haven't,"  admitted  the  caller,  a  little  man, 
shabbily  dressed,  with  white  hair  and  a  face  furrowed 
by  as  many  wrinkles  as  he  was  years  old. 

The  clerk  evidently  did  not  approve  of  his  ap- 
pearance, for,  resuming  his  task  of  making  entries  in 
a  huge  ledger,  he  dismissed  his  interlocutor  summa- 
rily by  saying: 

"  The  vice-president  sees  no  one  except  by  appoint- 
ment, made  by  letter.  You  are  wasting  your  time. 
Good  morning ! " 

But  the  shabby  little  man  did  not  budge. 

"  I  guess,"  he  said  laconically,  "  I'll  trouble  you 
to  go  and  find  out  if  Mr.  Roy  Marshall  will  see  me. 
I'd  hate  to  have  to  tell  him  that  one  of  his  $i5-a-week 
clerks  didn't  know  enough  to  be  civil  to  an  old 
pal  of  his.  I  reckon  your  job  wouldn't  be  worth 
thirty  cents." 

The  clerk  looked  up  again  sharply  and  a  troubled, 


316  THE   END  OF 

anxious  look  came  into  his  commonplace  face.    More 
politely  he  said: 

"Your  card,  sir?" 

"  Oh,  cut  out  the  card.  Just  say  that  Joe  Blake, 
formerly  of  the  New  York  Scorpion,  is  out  here." 

The  clerk  went  into  an  inner  room  and  almost  in- 
stantly reappeared,  followed  by  Roy,  who  rushed  im- 
pulsively forward  to  greet  his  old  newspaper  chum. 

"Well,  well,  by  all  that's  wonderful!  Blake,  old 
chap,  where  on  earth  did  you  come  from  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  a  long  story,"  replied  the  other  with  a 
weary  smile.  He  began  to  cough,  a  hollow,  racking' 
cough  that  bent  still  more  his  attenuated  frame,  and 
his  threadbare  coat  and  frayed  linen  stood  out  in 
striking  contrast  with  the  healthy,  faultlessly  tailored 
figure  of  his  former  comrade. 

"  Well,  come  in  and  let's  hear  it,"  said  Roy  heartily, 
taking  Blake  by  the  arm  and  leading  him  into  hil 
private  office,  to  the  stupefaction  of  the  inquisitive 
clerks,  who  wondered  what  their  aristocratic  and  well 
groomed  chief  could  have  in  common  with  sucl: 
a  shabby-looking  stranger. 

Meantime,  the  two  men  were  seated  facing  each 
other  in  the  private  sanctorum  of  the  vice-president 
of  the  Empire  Steel  Company — the  man  who  had  lost 
and  the  man  who  had  won  in  the  battle  of  life. 

Ten  years  had  passed  since  the  great  strike  and  in 
this  interval  the  steel  situation  had  undergone  sweep- 


THE    GAME  317 

ing  changes.  The  labor  troubles  were  followed  by  an 
era  of  extraordinary  prosperity  for  the  Excelsior  plant. 
Instead  of  the  Armstrong  interests  having  been  in- 
jured, the  affairs  of  the  famous  ironmaster  acquired 
a  new  and  irresistible  impetus.  The  world  needed 
more  and  more  steel,  and  thanks  to  the  energy  and 
sagacity  of  its  directing  genius  the  Excelsior  plant 
continued  to  secure  the  cream  of  the  domestic  and 
foreign  trade.  Its  capacity  for  manufacturing  steel 
gradually  grew  to  be  one  of  the  marvels  of  the  indus- 
trial world,  the  plant  constantly  increasing  its  output, 
daily  breaking  its  own  record  and  astounding  its  de- 
lighted directors  by  the  immense  fortunes  that  it 
literally  poured  into  their  laps.  During  those  three 
dark  months  when  the  defiant  Union  had  paralyzed 
the  Excelsior  furnaces,  the  rival  steel  makers  had 
strained  every  nerve  to  profit  by  Armstrong's  embar- 
rassed position,  and  they  did  not  scruple  to  attempt 
to  divert  some  of  the  immense  amount  of  business 
which  previously  had  all  been  going  his  way.  This  act 
of  treachery  toward  a  crippled  competitor  Armstrong 
never  forgave,  and  when,  having  defeated  the  strikers, 
he  resumed  operations,  he  at  once  declared  merciless 
war  on  the  steel  men.  He  harassed  them  in  every 
possible  way,  laying  down  railroads  here,  underselling 
them  there,  buying  coal  land,  building  coke  ovens, 
until  his  competitors  cried  for  quarter.  But  Arm- 
strong would  give  none,  so,  in  order  to  save  their  own 


3i8  THE   END   OF 

skins,  the  steel  makers  got  together  and  decided  that 
there  was  only  one  thing  to  do — buy  Armstrong  out 
and  amalgamate  all  the  leading  steel  plants  in  one  huge 
concern. 

The  steel  trust  was  born  from  that  minute.  The 
biggest  financiers  were  behind  the  scheme  and  nego- 
tiations opened  with  the  steel  king.  They  offered  him 
$200,000,000  and  he  laughed  at  the  envoys,  declaring 
he  would  not  sell  for  less  than  $500,000,000.  The 
magnitude  of  the  amount  staggered  the  steel  men,  but 
there  was  no  way  out  of  it,  and  the  gigantic  deal  was 
put  through.  The  name  of  the  company  was  changed 
to  the  Empire  Steel  Company  and  John  Armstrong 
was  elected  president.  He  had  the  privilege  of  retain- 
ing what  men  he  chose,  and  he  selected  those  whom 
he  himself  acknowledged  had  contributed  to  his  stu- 
pendous success — Jake  Smith,  Leonard  Harvey  and 
Roy  Marshall.  Mr.  Miller  and  Mr.  Brent  retired  with 
ample  fortunes  when  reorganization  came.  Leonard 
Harvey  had  taken  Mr.  Miller's  place  as  general  man- 
ager at  the  works  and  Roy  Marshall  at  Mr.  Arm- 
strong's special  request  had  accepted  the  position  of 
vice-president. 

To-day  the  Empire  Steel  Company  was  a  colossus 
among  the  vast  industrial  organizations  of  the  world 
and  John  Armstrong  was  practically  supreme  ruler 
over  an  empire  of  steel — an  empire  as  large  as  three 
States,  having  a  standing  army  of  two  hundred  thou- 


THE    GAME  319 

sand  workmen,  a  dozen  railroads,  twenty  ports,  a  for- 
midable fleet  of  a  hundred  vessels  and  treasure  esti- 
mated at  not  less  than  two  billions  of  dollars ! 

No  one  had  watched  the  incoming  golden  tide  of 
millions  with  greater  fascination  than  Roy  Marshall. 
Years  before,  Mr.  Armstrong  had  made  him  a  junior 
partner  and  when  the  amalgamation  came  he  found  to 
his  amazement  that  his  stock  represented  millions. 
Great  wealth  had  come  to  him  so  suddenly,  practically 
overnight,  that  his  brain  reeled.  When  Mr.  Arm- 
strong had  calmly  informed  him  that  his  holdings  were 
worth  twenty  million  dollars  and  congratulated  him, 
he  had  staggered  home  like  a  drunken  man,  to  the 
great  alarm  of  Eunice,  who  thought  he  was  ill. 

Twenty  millions!  Success — wealth — beyond  his 
wildest  expectations,  had  come  at  lastl  There  was 
nothing  the  world  had  to  offer  that,  henceforth,  he 
could  not  buy,  and  the  sensation  of  possessing  almost 
unlimited  purchasing  power  was  so  novel  that  for  days 
he  went  about  like  a  man  demented.  Then,  as  he 
slowly  realized  that  it  was  not  a  dream,  he  took  his 
good  fortune  more  philosophically.  He  had  worked 
like  a  galley  slave  for  ten  long  years;  henceforward 
he  would  take  it  easier  and  enjoy  life.  He  and  Eunice 
were  still  young.  Wealth,  which  had  been  the  only 
thing  missing  in  their  happy  married  life,  was  now 
theirs. 

Long  ago  they  had  left  the  humble  little  cottage  at 


320  THE   END    OF 

Glendale,  associated  with  timorous  beginnings  and 
heart-rending  tragedy,  and  for  some  time  had  occu- 
pied a  handsome  villa  in  the  more  fashionable  suburb 
of  Oakland,  but  when  he  found  himself  a  millionaire, 
Roy  at  once  decided  that  he  must  live  in  a  style  less 
simple.  The  Oakland  villa  was  all  very  well  for  a 
man  making  his  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  a  year,  but 
it  would  never  do  for  a  multimillionaire.  So  he  built 
on  Highland  Avenue  a  residence  which,  when  com- 
pleted, became  one  of  the  show  places  of  Pittsburg. 
It  was  of  pure  white  marble,  in  Renaissance  style  of 
architecture,  and  occupied  a  space  equal  to  two  city 
blocks.  On  all  sides  it  was  surrounded  by  gardens 
elaborately  laid  out  and  enclosed  by  fine  ornamental 
railings.  They  called  it  Altonia  in  remembrance  of 
Alton  Court.  The  interior  was  as  beautiful  as  the 
exterior.  Magnificent  halls,  noble  reception  rooms, 
monumental  stairways,  decorated  by  the  leading  artists 
of  Europe,  and  the  furnishings  by  New  York  and 
Paris  upholsterers,  were  on  the  same  scale  of  reckless 
extravagance.  By  the  time  all  was  finished  the  house 
and  grounds  represented  an  outlay  of  two  million 
dollars. 

Roy  did  not  care  what  it  cost.  His  money  had  come 
so  easily  and  in  such  huge  bulk  that  he  felt  he  could 
afford  to  spend  with  a  prodigal  hand.  This  sudden 
transition  from  comparative  poverty  to  enormous 
wealth  had  an  effect  on  him  akin  to  that  produced  by 


THE    GAME  321 

a  couple  of  glasses  of  champagne  on  a  person  un- 
accustomed to  strong  liquors.  He  felt  exhilarated, 
elated,  buoyant,  jubilant.  The  whole  world  appeared 
in  different  colors,  the  very  passers  by  in  the  streets 
did  not  seem  the  same.  Whereas,  formerly,  they  hur- 
ried past  paying  no  heed  to  him,  now  they  stopped 
and  stared,  pointing  him  out  as  the  lucky  steel  maker, 
going  out  of  their  way  to  attract  his  attention  and 
curry  his  favor.  Yesterday  he  was  nobody ;  to-day  he 
was  a  personage  of  vast  social  importance,  and  when 
he  began  to  notice  the  difference  in  people's  demeanor, 
and  how  suddenly  friends  sprang  up  on  all  sides,  he 
commenced  to  realize  the  power  of  money.  He  soon 
found  that  gold  will  purchase  not  only  the  necessaries 
and  superfluities  of  life  but  human  beings  as  well, 
enslaving  men  and  degrading  women.  Roy  would 
have  been  hardly  human  if  his  head  had  not  been 
turned. 

When  moaey  comes  late  in  life  to  a  man  whose 
tastes  and  character  are  already  formed,  there  is  less 
danger  of  his  rushing  headlong  into  those  follies 
which  have  wrecked  many  young  men  inheriting  great 
fortunes  on  attaining  their  majority.  Roy  was  now 
forty,  well  past  the  dangerous  age  when  men  are 
liable  to  stumble  into  all  kinds  of  moral  pitfalls.  The 
man  of  forty,  as  a  rule,  is  as  different  from  the  man 
of  twenty-five  or  thirty  as  it  is  possible  for  two  men 
to  fee.  He  takes  a  saner,  broader  view  of  life,  he  acts 


322  THE   END    OF 

more  rationally,  he  is  led  by  reason  rather  than  by 
impulse.  That  is  why  it  happens  that  a  man  who  sows 
his  wild  oats  in  his  youth  generally  becomes  a  staid 
married  man  by  the  time  he  is  forty.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  man  who  was  a  model  of  propriety  in  his 
youth  is  apt  to  develop  a  taste  for  wild-oat  sowing 
later  in  life  and  then  the  crop  he  garners  is  likely  to 
be  disastrous. 

Roy  had  never  shown  any  inclination  for  a  gay 
life  or  dissipation  of  any  kind.  He  had  studiously 
avoided  Leonard  Harvey  and  his  fast  set  of  com- 
panions, firstly  because  he  had  no  tastes  for  their 
amusements,  secondly  because  they  would  take  him 
away  from  home  and  from  his  work,  which  up  to  then 
had  been  all-important.  But  when  he  found  himself 
practically  independent  and  possessed  of  an  enormous 
fortune,  he  became  seized  with  an  unconquerable  im- 
pulse to  abandon  his  hermit-like  mode  of  living  and 
see  more  of  the  world,  which,  to  a  great  extent,  must 
always  remain  a  closed  book  to  either  the  poor  or 
busy  man.  Now  he  was  rich,  immensely  rich,  he 
could  have  fine  houses  in  Pittsburg  and  New  York, 
he  could  entertain  lavishly,  have  an  unlimited  number 
of  servants,  carriages  and  automobiles,  buy  anything 
he  fancied  and  travel  through  those  countries  he  knew 
only  by  name.  In  a  word,  at  last  he  could  live ! 

But  although  he  now  had  it  in  his  power  to  do  all 
these  things,  Roy  did  not  for  an  instant  neglect  his 


THE    GAME  323 

work.  On  the  contrary,  his  success  only  spurred  him 
on  to  renewed  effort.  Mr.  Armstrong,  who  had  the 
greatest  opinion  of  his  executive  ability,  left  practically 
everything  to  him  and  under  his  management  the  Em- 
pire Steel  Company  became  the  biggest,  wealthiest 
and  most  powerful  concern  in  the  world.  The  larger 
grew  the  profits,  the  harder  Roy  toiled.  Nothing  was 
too  big  or  too  difficult  for  him  to  undertake.  The  bus- 
iness of  rolling  up  more  and  more  millions  to  the 
Company's  credit  became  the  all-absorbing  passion  of 
his  life.  Still  as  popular  with  the  workmen  as  when 
one  of  themselves,  he  was  also  well  liked  by  the  men 
of  his  own  class,  and  it  was  the  general  opinion  that 
no  one  had  ever  presided  with  greater  success  at  the 
monthly  directors'  meeting.  Yet,  although  courteous 
and  approachable  with  all,  in  business  transactions  he 
was  quick  as  a  flash  to  see  when  the  Company  was 
offered  the  worst  end  of  a  bargain,  and  then  the  inter- 
viewer at  once  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  a 
master. 

In  personal  appearance  Roy  had  not  changed  much 
in  the  sixteen  years  that  had  slipped  by  since  he  left 
Boston  to  fight  his  own  way  in  the  world.  His  hair 
was  gray  at  the  temples  and  thinner  at  the  top  and 
his  face  was  graver  and  stronger  in  its  lines.  But 
otherwise  it  was  the  same  Roy  Marshall  who  had 
winced  when  he  rang  the  dead  man's  bell  that  blustery 
night  in  Brooklyn. 


324  THE    END    OF 

Joe  Blake  was  of  the  same  opinion  as  he  glanced 
furtively  at  his  one-time  fellow  reporter.  From  Roy's 
face  his  gaze  wandered  to  his  fine  clothes  and  then 
round  the  room,  taking  in  the  rich  fittings  of  his  luxu- 
rious office. 

"  Things  are  different  than  in  the  Vulture  days,"  he 
said  with  a  grin. 

"  Yes,"  said  Roy  carelessly,  "Tve  made  a  success 
of  it.  It  feels  nice  when  it  comes.  And  you?"  he 
asked. 

The  old  reporter  was  taken  with  another  distressing 
coughing  spell.  When  it  ceased  he  answered: 

"  You  see  what  I  am.  I  guess  I  shan't  last  much 
longer.  I'll  be  glad  when  it's  over." 

"  Don't  talk  that  way,  man,"  said  Roy  sympatheti- 
cally. "  When  did  you  leave  the  Scorpion?  " 

"  A  year  ago.  I  caught  cold  while  on  an  assign- 
ment for  the  paper  and  it  settled  on  my  lungs.  I  soon 
became  too  weak  to  work  and  they  gave  me  a  week's 
salary  and  told  me  I  could  go — after  being  with  them 
nearly  twenty  years!  Just  think  of  it!  Didn't  I  tell 
you  how  it  was  ?  You  were  lucky  you  got  out." 

Again  a  spasm  of  coughing  interrupted  him. 

"And  then?" 

"  I  couldn't  find  anything  to  do  and  I  soon  got  into 
debt.  Finally  I  secured  a  job  as  proofreader  but  my 
eyes  gave  out  and  I  had  to  resign.  Then  I  addressed 
envelopes  for  a  few  cents  a  thousand,  but  it  was 


THE    GAME  325 

dreadful  drudgery  and  barely  kept  body  and  soul  to- 
gether. One  day  I  saw  your  name  in  a  newspaper. 
They  called  you  the  Napoleon  of  Steel  and  said  you 
were  heaping  up  millions  daily.  I  thought  you  might 
remember  an  old  newspaper  chum  and  perhaps  be 
able  to  find  something  here  for  me  to  do — as  clerk, 
watchman,  anything.  I  guess  it  won't  be  for  long. 
I  spent  my  last  dollar  on  a  railroad  ticket  to  Pittsburg 
and  here  I  am." 

Roy's  first  impulse  was  to  spring  from  his  seat  and, 
grasping  the  hand  of  the  human  derelict  stranded  be- 
fore him,  to  cry:  You've  come  to  the  right  place, 
Blake,  old  man.  I  will  find  something  for  you.  Every 
victim  of  that  wretched  newspaper  life  has  my  heart- 
felt sympathy.  I  don't  suppose  there  will  be  much  in 
what  position  I  can  make  for  you,  but  it  will  be 
enough  to  keep  you  in  comfort  for  the  rest  of  your 
days.  And  to-night  you  will  be  my  guest  at  dinner  at 
Altonia. 

This  is  how  he  would  have  spoken  a  few  years  ago 
and  it  was  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue  to  say  it  now,  but 
he  suddenly  checked  himself  as  he  remembered  that 
Leonard  Harvey  was  coming  to  dinner  that  evening. 
Harvey  would  think  it  strange  to  see  a  shabbily  dressed 
stranger  sitting  at  the  luxuriously  appointed  table  at 
Altonia.  He  (Roy)  was  sorry  for  Blake,  of  course, 
and  would  give  him  employment  about  the  works  of 
some  kind,  but  he  could  not  be  expected  to  entertain 


3  26  THE    END    OF 

him  at  his  house.  It  was  all  very  well  to  feel  sympathy 
and  all  that  kind  of  thing  but  wealth  and  position  had 
their  duties  which  could  not  be  ignored.  He  could  not 
afford  to  violate  the  conventions.  Thus  had  the  iron 
already  entered  his  soul ! 

Pulling  a  roll  of  bills  from  his  pocket,  he  tore  off 
a  ten  dollar  note  and  handed  it  to  Blake,  and  with  more 
reserve  than  he  had  at  first  displayed,  he  said : 

"  I'll  see  what  I  can  do  for  you.  Suppose  you  come 
and  see  me  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I'm  busy  now  or 
I  would  have  you  stay." 

The  ex-reporter  rose.  He  understood  that  he  was 
dismissed.  For  a  moment  he  was  surprised  at  Roy's 
abruptness,  seeing  that  he  had  greeted  him  with  such 
unaffected  cordiality,  but  after  all,  it  was  the  way  of 
the  world.  Those  who  manage  to  climb  to  the  top 
have  little  use  for  the  unfortunates  still  struggling  at 
the  bottom. 

When  he  had  gone,  closing  the  door  behind  him, 
Roy  was  seized  with  remorse.  He  felt  he  had  behaved 
like  a  brute.  Yet  what  could  he  do?  As  vice-presi- 
dent of  the  Company,  he  could  not  be  on  terms  too 
intimate  with  a  man  who  was  to  be  employed  in  a 
very  subordinate  capacity.  It  would  be  harmful  to 
discipline.  He  could  not  be  expected  to  open  his  house 
to  every  one  he  had  ever  met  in  his  life  just  because 
they  were  unfortunate  and  destitute  and  he  was  suc- 
cessful and  rich.  The  very  idea  was  ridiculous.  At 


THE    GAME  327 

the  same  time  he  thought  he  would  not  mention  the 
incident  to  Eunice.  She  had  queer  ideas  on  such  mat- 
ters and  there  was  no  telling  what  she  might  think  or 
say.  No,  decidedly,  he  would  say  nothing  about  it  to 
Eunice. 

He  was  thus  cogitating  when  there  came  a  rap  at 
the  door  and  Harvey  put  his  head  in. 

"  Busy  ?  "  he  asked  with  a  smile. 

"  No,  come  in,  Lenny,"  said  Roy.  "  I'm  glad  to  see 
you.  I  just  need  your  exuberant  spirits  to  cheer  me 
up.  A  poor  devil  was  in  here  just  now  and  his  tale 
of  woe  has  made  me  blue.  Don't  forget,"  he  added, 
"  that  you  dine  with  us  at  the  house  to-night." 

"  How  could  any  one  forget  Altonia  and  its  charm- 
ing hostess  ?  "  said  Harvey  with  the  bow  of  a  courtier. 
"  I'll  be  with  you  without  fail,  but  I  came  principally 
to  see  you  about  that  trip  to  New  York." 

As  with  Roy,  the  years  had  passed  lightly  over 
Leonard  Harvey's  head.  His  black  wavy  hair  only 
slightly  streaked  with  gray,  his  dark  eyes  flashing  with 
the  same  fire,  he  was  as  handsome  as  ever.  He,  too, 
had  benefited  when  the  division  of  profits  came,  and 
was  several  times  a  millionaire.  He  had  never  mar- 
ried, having,  like  the  proverbial  sailor,  a  wife  in  every 
port,  and  with  luxurious  bachelor  apartments  in  Pitts- 
burg  and  New  York  he  played  the  role  of  Don  Juan 
in  both  cities  with  signal  success. 

Since  their  accession  to  wealth,  the  two  men  had 


3 28  THE   END    OF 

seen  much  more  of  each  other.  Roy  had  always  been 
strongly  attached  to  his  brilliant  colleague,  and  when 
his  money  came,  bewildering  him,  he  had  naturally 
turned  for  advice  to  Harvey,  who  had  wider  experience 
in  mundane  matters.  He  it  was  who  suggested  the 
building  of  Altonia  and  superintended  the  decorating 
and  furnishing.  He  put  Roy  up  at  his  New  York  and 
Pittsburg  clubs  and  introduced  him  and  his  wife  to 
society.  In  a  word,  he  became  the  official  friend  and 
family  councillor. 

For  some  time  past  he  and  Roy  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  making  periodical  little  trips  to  New  York. 
It  interested  Roy  to  revisit  the  familiar  scenes  under 
conditions  so  vastly  different  from  the  old  poverty- 
pinched  days,  and  as  Harvey  proved  a  fascinating  com- 
panion and  an  expert  cicerone,  these  visits  had  af- 
forded him  considerable  pleasure.  Besides,  as  Harvey 
had  pointed  out,  his  present  position  demanded  that 
he  see  more  of  the  world  and  know  more  of  what  was 
going  on.  No  man  of  wealth  and  any  breadth  of  mind 
could  tolerate  being  shut  up  all  his  life  in  Pittsburg. 
So  he  had  gone  willingly  enough  to  be  initiated  into 
all  that  gay  Gotham  has  to  offer  the  rich  man.  Harvey 
knew  every  one  in  New  York  of  importance  and  few 
men  about  town  were  as  familiar  as  he  with  those 
resorts  in  the  metropolis  where  pleasure,  or  what  passes 
for  pleasure,  can  be  bought  for  gold.  He  was  as  much 
at  home  flirting  with  the  fashionable  mondaines  of 


THE    GAME  329 

Fifth  Avenue  as  he  was  carousing  with  cocottes  of  the 
Tenderloin.  He  was  a  familiar  figure  on  every  race 
track  where  he  had  horses  running  in  his  name,  and 
his  visiting  card  secured  instant  admission  to  the  big- 
gest and  most  carefully  guarded  gambling  houses  in 
New  York,  places  where  it  was  nothing  to  risk  $10,000 
on  the  turn  of  a  card,  and  a  mere  bagatelle  to  lose  or 
make  a  fortune  of  $200,000  in  a  single  evening.  Such 
was  the  man  who  was  carefully  giving  Roy  Marshall 
the  education  which,  he  insisted,  every  self-respecting 
multimillionaire  must  have. 

Another  of  these  visits  to  Manhattan  was  now  to 
be  made  in  connection  with  a  stag  dinner  which  Har- 
vey proposed  giving  on  his  birthday  three  weeks  hence. 
Invitations  to  it  were  eagerly  sought  by  all  the  young 
bloods  in  Pittsburg,  for,  according  to  report,  it  was  to 
be  a  most  elaborate  affair,  with  sensational  features 
that  would  eclipse  anything  of  the  kind  Manhattan  had 
ever  seen. 

"I've  just  heard 'from  Martinetti's,"  said  Harvey, 
"  I  can  get  the  tapestry  room.  It  holds  forty  men  very 
comfortably.  The  rest  I'll  take  care  of.  We'll  have 
lots  of  fun.  You're  coming  of  course?  " 

Roy  was  silent  for  a  moment,  toying  nervously  with 
the  papers  scattered  over  his  desk.  Then  he  said : 

"  Yes,  I'll  be  there."  Then,  quickly,  he  added :  "  Be 
careful  to  say  nothing  about  it  before  Eunice." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Harvey. 


330  THE    END    OP 

"  Oh,  by  the  way/'  he  added.  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you. 
I  met  a  friend  of  yours  in  New  York  the  other  day." 

"Who's  that?" 

"  Cleo  Gordon.  She  looked  simply  stunning,  like- 
one  of  her  own  portraits  cut  bodily  from  the  frame. 
She  was  stepping  out  of  her  electric  brougham  in 
front  of  Tiffany's,  and  you  should  have  seen  how  every- 
body stared.  She  had  'em  all  on — dressed  to  kill — and 
people  weren't  sure  whether  she  was  a  Russian  princess 
or  a  swell  member  of  the  half  world.  No  one  to  look 
at  her  would  imagine  she  was  an  artist,  yet  she  has 
enormous  ability.  Her  last  picture  won  a  medal  at 
the  Exhibition.  But  to  me  she  appeals  more  as  the 
woman  than  as  the  artist.  Her  splendid  coloring, 
that  Titian-red  hair,  the  pallor  of  her  oval-shaped 
face,  with  its  delicate  features,  her  blue  eyes,  her  long 
eyelashes  which  throw  a  shadow  on  her  cheek,  her 
finely  arched  eyebrows — no  wonder  the  men  are  crazy 
about  her!  If  you'd  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  little 

• 

feet,  with  their  open-work  stockings  and  dainty  slip- 
pers, as  she  tripped  across  the  pavement,  you'd  have 
succumbed  on  the  spot." 

"  I  didn't  imagine  you  had  so  much  enthusiasm  left, 
Lenny,"  said  Roy  dryly. 

"  You  can't  blame  me,  can  you  ?  Isn't  a  smile  from 
Cleo  Gordon  enough  to  set  any  man  on  fire  ?  " 

"  She's  certainly  a  fascinating  creature,"  assented 
Roy. 


THE   GAME  331 

"  We  had  quite  a  little  chat,"  went  on  Harvey. 
"  She  inquired  after  you  and  asked  me  to  bring  you 
to  the  house  again.  She  said  you  were  such  an  inter- 
esting man !  "  added  Harvey  with  a  mocking  laugh. 

Roy  laughed  too,  but  his  gayety  was  somewhat 
forced.  Neither  the  message  nor  the  invitation  made 
him  feel  exactly  comfortable.  On  one  of  his  recent 
visits  to  the  city  Harvey  had  suggested  a  call  on  the 
fashionable  portraitist  who  gave  Sunday  evening  trnisi- 
cales  in  her  luxuriously  appointed  studio  on  Central 
Park  West.  One  met  there  all  the  celebrities  of 
artistic  New  York — musicians,  sculptors,  novelists, 
poets,  journalists,  singers,  actors — and  to  Roy  it  was 
a  world  so  entirely  new,  a  circle  so  radically  differ- 
ent from  prosaic,  strenuous  steel  making,  that  it 
appealed  to  him  with  compelling  force.  Here 
they  talked  art,  music,  literature,  drama,  instead  of 
ore,  ingots,  castings  and  profits.  It  was  an  elys- 
ium  of  human  thought  and  ideals  as  contrasted 
with  an  inferno  of  human  industry.  It  was  an 
evening  full  of  sensuous  charm  and  intellectual  de- 
light, and  the  steel  maker  was  completely  fascinated. 
He  was  introduced  to  authors  whose  books  he  had 
read,  he  met  painters  whose  canvases  decorated  the 
walls  of  Altonia,  he  chatted  with  actors  who,  on  the 
stage,  had  thrilled  or  amused  him. 

"What  shall  I  tell  her  if  I  meet  her  again?"  de- 
manded Harvey. 


332  THE   END    OF 

"  Oh,  anything,"  laughed  Roy.  "  Tell  her  she  is  too 
dangerous  a  hostess  for  a  married  man."  Then  rising 
and  closing  his  desk  with  a  bang,  he  added :  "  Well, 
Lenny,  I  must  be  off  home.  Eunice  will  be  wondering 
where  I  am.  .We'll  expect  you  to  dinner  at  seven." 


THE  GAME  333 


CHAPTER   II 

REALLY,  my  dear  Eunice,  there  are  times  when 
I  cannot  understand  you.  What  more  can 
you  possibly  wish  for  ?  You  have  an  enormous 
fortune,  a  palace  to  live  in,  a  sweet  little  daughter  and 
a  successful  husband.  There  is  not  a  woman  in  Pitts- 
burg  who  does  not  envy  you." 

Mrs.  Marshall  and  her  friend  Mrs.  Dexter  were 
seated  in  the  grounds  of  Altonia  on  a  rustic  bench 
near  an  ornamental  fountain  whose  dancing  waters, 
kissed  by  the  rays  of  the  fast-setting  sun,  reflected  a 
dozen  changing  colors.  It  was  late  in  autumn  and  the 
trees  and  shrubs  rained  thousands  of  leaves  on  the 
elaborately  laid-out  lawns  at  every  breath  of  the  wind. 
As  the  shadows  deepened,  the  broad  gravel  walks,  the 
greenhouses  and  ferneries,  the  groups  of  marble  statu- 
ary, rising  here  and  there  amid  parterres  of  rhododen- 
drons, all  took  on  vague  golden  tones,  while  the  air  was 
heavy  with  the  perfume  of  flowers.  From  the  house, 
whose  stately  white  outlines  could  be  seen  through 
the  trees,  came  the  sound  of  a  piano  and  the  unre- 
strained laughter  of  a  child. 

Mrs.  Philip  Dexter  was  the  wife  of  a  millionaire 
coal  baron  and  an  acknowledged  leader  of  Pittsburg's 


334 


OF 


Four  Hundred.  The  Marshalls  had  been  introduced 
to  her  at  a  charity  bazaar,  and  with  an  eye  to  their 
lucky  windfall,  which  was  then  the  talk  of  the  town, 
she  promptly  invited  the  steel  maker  and  his  wife  to 
dinner  as  a  preliminary  to  presenting  them  formally  to 
society.  She  was  still  a  young  woman,  being  barely 
out  of  the  thirties,  and  as  she  was  good-natured  and 
always  amusing,  Eunice  had  been  glad  to  make  a  com- 
panion of  her.  Otherwise,  their  tastes  could  hardly 
be  more  dissimilar.  Gossip  and  tittle-tattle,  which  Eu- 
nice detested,  was  the  salt  of  life  to  her,  and  she  was 
a  devotee  of  bridge,  in  which  Eunice  took  not  the 
slightest  interest.  For  Mrs.  Dexter,  society,  its  doings, 
its  dress,  its  gossip,  its  scandals,  were  far  more  impor- 
tant than  eating  or  sleeping.  People  who  did  not  move 
in  society  simply  did  not  exist  for  her. 

Eunice  nervously  pulled  to  pieces  a  rose  which  she 
had  plucked  from  a  nearby  shrub,  and  the  delicate  pink 
petals  fell  about  her  in  a  shower  as  she  answered: 

"  What  leads  you  to  think  that  I  wish  for  anything 
that  is  not  mine  already?  Have  I  uttered  a  com- 
plaint?" 

"Your  manner  —  that's  all,"  replied  Mrs.  Dexter. 
"  You  don't  care  for  the  things  a  rich  woman  should 
care  for.  Society  bores  you,  you  have  no  taste  for 
bridge,  and  while  you  dress  well,  you  only  do  it  be- 
cause you  can't  help  yourself.  If  our  rich  women 
were  all  like  you,  the  dressmakers  would  go  to  the 


THE   GAME  335 

poorhouse.  You  don't  even  flirt;  Mr.  Harvey  is 
always  ogling  you,  and  you  plainly  show  him  he  is 
wasting  his  time.  What  is  wealth  for  if  not  to  spend 
on  finery  and  pleasure?  You  don't  give  one  the  im- 
pression of  being  a  contented  woman.  Mr.  Harvey 
himself  has  remarked  it.  He  says  you  have  entirely 
changed  since  the  days  when  your  husband  was  strug- 
gling to  make  both  ends  meet.  One  would  think  your 
money  had  brought  you  unhappiness.  It  is  usually  the 
reverse." 

"  You  forget,"  said  Eunice  gravely,  "  that  I  have 
had  a  great  sorrow.  Besides,  the  years  are  getting 
on  and  I  am  not  growing  younger." 

"  You  mean  the  death  of  your  little  boy.  That  was 
a  blow,  of  course,  but  it  was  years  ago.  Now  you 
have  a  little  girl,  which  is  Nature's  compensation.  As 
to  growing  old,  you're  not  yet  thirty-five.  Balzac  says 
in  one  of  his  books  that  a  woman  doesn't  reach  her 
prime  until  she's  forty.  It's  the  cleverest  thing  he 
ever  said.  It's  real  comfort  to  me.  I  shall  be  forty 
next  May.  Just  think  of  it !  Isn't  it  positively  dread- 
ful?" 

The  chatterbox  rose  to  go.  There  were  other  calls 
to  make,  and  it  was  getting  near  dinner  time.  She 
frequently  ran  in  on  Eunice  in  this  informal  way, 
usually  with  the  not  altogether  disinterested  object  of 
getting  the  wealthy  mistress  of  Altonia  to  contribute 
a  check  to  some  more  or  less  deserving  charity,  and 


336  THE   END    OF 

her  mission  never  failed.  Mrs.  Dexter  knew  by  expe- 
rience that  no  matter  what  little  interest  her  hostess 
took  in  society's  frivolity,  no  matter  what  scant  patience 
she  had  in  discussions  of  bridge  and  the  latest  styles, 
she  would  always  lend  a  willing  ear  to  any  story  of 
distress,  and  her  purse  was  ever  open  to  the  unfor- 
tunate. She  had  plenty  of  money  to  spend  as  she  liked. 
On  her  first  birthday  after  they  moved  to  Altonia, 
she  found  on  her  plate  at  breakfast  a  check  for  $500,- 
ooo,  a  present  from  Roy.  The  income  of  this  sum, 
which  she  intended  to  settle  on  her  child,  more  than 
sufficed  for  pin  money  and  a  large  portion  of  it  went 
for  philanthropic  purposes.  For  her  numerous  chari- 
ties, Eunice  had  a  special  bank  account  upon  which 
she  drew  checks  especially  engraved,  each  bearing  the 
portrait  of  her  own  Teddy,  from  a  photograph  taken 
the  first  year  at  Glendale.  In  this  way,  she  delighted 
to  give,  feeling  that  each  of  her  bounties  was  made 
in  the  name  of  her  dead  baby  whom  she  had  never 
ceased  to  mourn. 

"  I  really  must  be  going,"  said  Mrs.  Dexter,  glancing 
at  her  watch.  "  It's  six  o'clock.  Mr.  Marshall  will 
be  here  any  minute." 

"  My  husband  won't  be  home  until  seven,"  said 
Eunice. 

"No?"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Dexter,  raising  her  eye- 
brows interrogatively. 


THE    GAME  337 

"  He's  been  to  New  York,"  explained  Eunice.  "  I 
expect  him  back  on  the  6.50  train." 

"  Mr.  Marshall's  in  New  York  a  good  deal,  isn't 
he  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Dexter  pointedly. 

"  Yes,  very  frequently,"  replied  Eunice  with  perfect 
composure. 

"  I  suppose  business  calls  him  there  ? "  persisted 
Mrs.  Dexter,  in  the  hope  that  the  wife  would  take  her 
into  her  confidence. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  replied  Eunice  dryly. 

"  It  must  be  very  lonely  for  you,"  added  the  other. 

"  It  is,"  said  Eunice  in  an  abrupt,  frigid  tone  which 
completely  baffled  the  inquisitive  cross-examiner  and 
made  further  questioning  impossible. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,  dear,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dexter  as 
she  shook  hands  with  her  hostess.  "  What  did  you  de- 
cide about  the  decorations  of  your  boudoir?  " 

"  Nothing  as  yet,"  answered  Eunice.  "  The  uphol- 
sterer promised  to  bring  me  some  papers  to  select  from. 
I  want  something  dainty  and  cheerful." 

"  Don't  decide  on  anything  till  next  week  when  I 
get  back  from  New  York,"  said  Mrs.  Dexter.  "  I 
know  Cleo  Gordon,  the  portrait  painter.  She's  all  the 
rage  now  and  has  a  magnificent  studio  on  Central  Park 
West.  They  say  her  boudoir  is  simply  the  loveliest 
room  you  ever  saw.  I'll  run  in  there  while  I'm  in 
town,  and  see  it  myself.  You  may  be  able  to  get  an 
idea  for  your  own  boudoir.  Good-by,  dear !  " 


338  THE   END    OF 

Long  after  she  had  gone  Eunice  sat  on  the  rustic 
bench,  quiet,  almost  motionless,  lost  in  thought.  The 
sun  sank  below  the  western  horizon,  setting  the  sky 
aflame  with  his  fiery  glory,  and  the  shadows  of  the 
east  deepened  as  she  still  sat  there  waiting  for  her 
husband,  watching  through  the  trees  the  windows  of 
the  house  which  lit  up  one  by  one. 

Was  it  true  that  riches  had  brought  her  unhappiness  ? 
Mrs.  Dexter  said  that  she  was  the  most  envied  woman 
in  Pittsburg.  But  how  could  the  outside  world  guess 
that  her  heart  was  breaking? 

At  thirty-five  Eunice  looked  little  different  from  what 
she  had  at  twenty-five.  Ten  years  had  left  slight  trace 
of  their  passage.  Her  figure  was  plumper  and  the 
serious  lines  in  her  face  had  deepened  somewhat,  but 
otherwise  she  was  the  same  sweet,  refined  woman 
whom  Roy  Marshall  had  won  for  his  bride  in  Boston 
fifteen  years  before.  The  avalanche  of  gold  which 
made  her  husband  a  multimillionaire  had  not  changed 
her  in  the  slightest  degree.  She  took  her  new  honors 
as  easily  and  gracefully  as  if  she  had  been  born  to 
them,  and  even  such  potent  corrupting  influences  as 
money  and  social  success  were  powerless  to  spoil  her 
sterling  nature.  She  remained  the  unaffected,  sincere 
woman  she  always  was,  with  a  kind  word  for  every  one, 
no  matter  what  their  station  in  life.  She  entertained 
Roy's  friends  at  splendid  dinners  given  at  Altonia,  on 
which  occasions  she  wore  robes  and  jewels  a  duchess 


THE   GAME  339 

might  well  envy,  yet  the  following  morning  one  was 
apt  to  meet  her  attired  in  a  simple  gown  paying  visits 
of  comfort  and  charity  to  her  old  friends  in  the  cot- 
tages at  Glendale,  distributing  bundles  of  provisions 
here,  money  there,  toys  to  the  children  everywhere. 
They  called  her  Lady  Bountiful  and  a  blessing  fol- 
lowed her  wherever  she  went. 

Another  child  had  been  born  to  her,  a  beautiful 
flaxen-haired  girl  now  eight  years  old,  and  to  some 
extent  the  coming  of  the  daughter  had  helped  Eunice 
to  forget  the  never  entirely  healed  wound  caused  by 
Teddy's  death.  In  the  Glendale  days  she  had  wel- 
comed the  little  stranger  on  this  account,  and  now 
there  was  another  reason  why  she  thanked  God  for 
thus  blessing  her.  She  realized  more  every  day  that 
the  daughter  was  taking  in  her  life  the  place  of  a  com- 
panion who  was  rapidly  drifting  away  from  her.  She 
poured  out  upon  her  child  all  the  affection  of  which 
her  tender  nature  was  capable,  performing  lovingly 
and  jealously  all  those  duties  most  mothers  leave  to 
nurses,  finding  in  her  little  girl's  constant  companion- 
ship some  consolation  for  Roy's  growing  indifference 
and  neglect.  They  named  the  child  Grace  after  Roy's 
sister,  who  by  this  time  had  children  of  her  own,  hav- 
ing married  a  Boston  professor  three  years  previous. 
They  often  corresponded  and  once  a  year  Grace  came 
to  pay  Eunice  and  her  brother  a  visit.  Both  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Marshall  had  died,  one  soon  after  the  other,  and 


340  THE    END    OF 

the  younger  brother,  Edward,  was  now  the  head  of 
Marshall  &  Company.  Miss  Merrick  was  still  in  the 
marriage  market,  and  there  were  no  bidders. 

The  difference  in  their  position  naturally  took  Eunice 
into  an  entirely  new  world,  a  world  she  had  never 
known  and  would  willingly  have  avoided,  the  world 
called  Society — a  small,  narrow  coterie  of  selfish  men 
and  women,  recruited  from  the  idle  rich  class  and 
for  the  most  part  morally  corrupt  to  the  core,  having 
but  one  God — Mammon;  having  but  one  ideal — to 
outdo  their  neighbor  in  show ;  devoid  of  a  single  decent 
impulse,  incapable  of  a  day's  honest  work,  living  on 
the  fat  of  the  land,  taking  no  interest  in  anything  not 
immediately  connected  with  animal  enjoyment  or  vul- 
gar ostentation,  squandering  recklessly  fortunes  la- 
boriously acquired  by  others,  frequently  amassed  by 
sharp  practice,  arousing  public  indignation  and  con- 
tempt by  foolish  extravagance  and  preposterous,  de- 
generate amusements. 

Eunice  herself  had  little  patience  with  all  this  folly. 
She  gave  lavish  entertainments  at  Altonia,  not  because 
she  was  fond  of  it  but  for  reasons  of  policy.  She  un- 
derstood that  it  was  necessary  for  a  man  in  her  hus- 
band's position,  and  for  some  time  she  had  noticed  that 
Roy  cared  more  for  that  kind  of  life  than  he  used  to. 
So  she  had  dutifully  done  everything  in  her  power 
to  please  him,  making  acquaintances  right  and  left 
among  Pittsburgh  smart  set,  giving  dinners  and  gar- 


THE    GAME  341 

den  parties,  neglecting  none  of  the  social  duties  in- 
cumbent upon  her  position  as  a  rich  man's  wife. 

Roy  spent  his  money  liberally  and  they  lived  in 
princely  style.  There  was  everything  at  Altonia  which 
money  could  purchase — exquisite  works  of  art,  costly 
tapestries,  paintings  which  had  cost  literally  more  than 
their  weight  in  gold.  Eunice  had  her  own  turnout 
and  Roy  his  fast  automobile.  An  establishment  of  this 
kind  naturally  called  for  many  servants,  and  they  had  a 
small  army  of  them.  Roy  had  a  valet  and  Eunice  her 
maid  and  there  was  a  fraulein  for  Grace. 

Eunice  cared  little  for  fashion,  but  she  felt  that  Roy 
expected  her  to  be  as  well  dressed  as  the  other  women 
of  their  set,  so  to  gratify  him  she  had  placed  herself 
unreservedly  in  the  hands  of  the  most  exclusive  of 
New  York's  modistes  and  in  spite  of  herself  she  soon 
became  one  of  the  best-dressed  women  in  Pittsburg. 
It  was  a  social  victory  on  which  she  herself  did  not  lay 
any  value,  but  she  was  well  rewarded  when  she  saw 
that  Roy  noted  the  change  in  her  appearance  and 
seemed  pleased.  A  few  days  after  Mr.  Armstrong  had 
told  him  of  his  good  fortune,  Roy  had  brought  her  a 
$20,000  diamond  necklace.  This  was  followed  by  gifts 
of  other  costly  gems,  until  the  Marshall  diamonds  came 
to  be  a  stereotyped  phrase  in  all  the  society  journals. 

Yet  with  all  her  millions,  despite  the  almost  regal 
magnificence  and  luxury  which  were  now  part  of  her 
life,  Eunice  would  willingly  have  surrendered  all  if 


342  THE   END    OF 

she  and  Roy  could  only  be  once  more  as  they  were  in 
the  old  Glendale  days.  The  first  few  months  after  their 
fortune  came,  the  change  in  his  financial  condition 
seemed  to  have  no  marked  effect  on  Roy.  For  nearly  a 
year  he  remained  as  he  always  had  been — simple  in  his 
tastes,  full  of  enthusiasm  for  his  work,  devoted  to  his 
wife  and  little  girl.  Yet  strangely  enough  he  had  never 
seemed  to  take  to  the  second  child  as  much  as  he  had 
to  poor  Teddy.  Was  it  because  he  was  afraid  to  love 
her,  afraid  lest  they  might  lose  her  as  they  had  their 
first-born  ?  Eunice  did  not  know,  only  it  made  her  very 
unhappy,  for  his  indifference  seemed  to  disturb  the 
harmony  of  their  family  circle.  Then,  by  degrees,  their 
home  life  changed  entirely.  Roy  was  nearly  always 
absent,  dining  in  town  at  the  club  or  visiting  in  New 
York,  usually  in  company  of  Leonard  Harvey,  who  had 
become  an  intimate  of  their  household. 

Eunice  had  never  overcome  her  first  instinctive  dis- 
like of  this  man,  but  for  her  husband's  sake  she  forced 
herself  to  appear  amiable  to  him.  It  was  he  who  had 
suggested  the  building  of  Altonia,  insisting  that  Roy 
owed  it  to  his  position.  What  was  the  use  of  success, 
he  argued,  unless  one  blazoned  one's  success  to  the 
world  ?  The  world  never  believes  what  it  is  told,  only 
what  it  sees.  This  sophistry  appealed  strongly  to  Roy's 
innate  vanity,  and  he  had  entered  with  enthusiasm  into 
all  his  friend's  ideas.  Harvey  planned  the  house,  en- 
gaged the  architects,  laid  out  the  grounds,  suggested 


THE    GAME  343 

schemes  of  decoration,  until  many  of  the  servants  and 
contractors  thought  he  was  the  man  who  was  paying 
for  it  all.  Roy  thought  it  extremely  generous  of  Har- 
vey to  take  so  much  trouble.  It  never  occurred  to 
him  that  his  friend  might  have  an  ulterior  motive. 

The  first  time  Harvey  had  seen  Eunice  at  the  steel 
works  he  had  been  struck  by  her  uncommon  personal- 
ity. Although  he  was  a  man  who  no  longer  counted  his 
feminine  conquests,  Roy  Marshall's  wife  appealed  to 
him  in  a  way  different  from  any  women  he  yet  had  met. 
Instinctively,  he  felt  that  she  did  not  like  him,  but  in- 
stead of  arousing  his  resentment  it  only  made  him  the 
more  eager  to  break  down  that  haughty  reserve.  He 
dreamed  of  a  conquest  more  daring  than  any  he  had 
yet  undertaken,  and  it  was  therefore  only  part  of  a 
carefully  thought  out  plan  when  he  offered  his  services, 
which  he  knew  must  inevitably  bring  him  closer  to  Al- 
tonia's  mistress.  It  was  also  part  of  his  plan  to  gradu- 
ally wean  the  husband  away  from  his  home  and  leave 
the  field  clear  for  himself. 

Thus,  what  with  the  steel  works,  and  the  time  he 
spent  with  Harvey,  Roy  found  but  little  time  for  his 
home,  and  many  and  many  a  day  and  evening  Eunice 
passed  alone.  She  was  too  proud  to  seek  the  com- 
panionship of  others,  or  let  the  world  see  that  she  was 
neglected.  So  she  suffered  alone.  One  day,  when 
Roy  returned  after  one  of  his  periodical  trips  to  New 


344  THE    END   OF 

York  he  handed  her  a  box  bearing  the  mark  of  a 
famous  firm  of  jewellers. 

"  A  little  present  for  you,  dear,"  he  said  as  he  kissed 
her. 

She  opened  the  box  and  started  back  in  delighted 
surprise.  It  was  a  superb  tiara  of  diamonds.  The 
sparkling  stones  fairly  dazzled  her. 

"  It  will  look  beautiful  on  your  hair,"  he  said  with 
his  old-time  winning  smile. 

"  Thank  you,  Roy,"  she  murmured.  "  It  is  so  good 
of  you." 

She  tried  to  look  pleased,  but  there  was  something  in 
the  tone  of  her  voice  that  made  him  ask  her : 

"  Don't  you  like  it  ?  You  ought  to.  It  cost  $50,000. 
Not  a  woman  in  Pittsburg  has  got  anything  like  it. 
You'll  create  a  sensation.  But  if  you'd  prefer  some- 
thing else,  I'll  change  it." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Eunice  quickly.  "  It  is  magnificent. 
I  shall  be  proud  to  wear  it.  Only " 

"  Only  what?  "  he  demanded,  looking  at  her  in  sur- 
prise. 

She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  in  the  old  im- 
pulsive way. 

"  Don't  be  angry,  Roy,  dear.  The  tiara  is  beautiful 
— too  beautiful  for  me.  But  I  don't  want  such 
presents." 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked,  perplexed,  trying 
to  fathom  her  meaning. 


THE    GAME  345 

Tears  filled  her  eyes  and  her  voice  was  choking 
as  she  burst  out : 

"  I  do  not  want  your  presents.  Can't  you  understand 
that  it  is  you  I  want  ?  Can't  you  see  that  I  am  eating 
my  heart  out  here  alone  day  after  day,  night  after 
night?  You  are  always  away  at  your  office,  at  your 
club,  at  your  pleasures  with  Mr.  Harvey  and  I  don't 
know  who  else.  Can't  you  see  how  lonely  it  must  be 
for  me  ?  Sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  should  go  mad !  " 

At  first,  her  vehement  outburst  startled  him.  Con- 
scious though  he  was  of  his  own  neglect,  his  wife  had 
always  shown  herself  so  submissive  to  his  will  that  it 
never  occurred  to  him  that  she  harbored  resentment, 
and  might  one  day  revolt.  He  had  surely  earned  the 
right  to  go  where  he  liked,  and  do  what  he  liked.  Had 
he  not  crowned  their  married  life  with  success  beyond 
their  wildest  dreams?  What  would  not  most  women 
give  to  possess  what  she  enjoyed — all  the  money  she 
could  possibly  spend,  a  magnificent  residence,  servants, 
jewels,  carriages  and  all  the  rest  of  it?  His  face  dark- 
ened, for  he  thought  her  unreasonable.  She  ought  to 
understand  that  his  position  was  no  longer  what  it 
was.  His  duties  were  more  numerous,  his  responsi- 
bilities more  weighty. 

He  endeavored  to  placate  her,  seeking  excuses,  try- 
ing to  argue  with  her. 

"  Why,  Eunice,  how  can  you  talk  like  that?  If  I'm 
more  often  away  now  than  I  used  to  be,  it  is  only  be- 


346  THE   END    OF 

cause  I  have  to  be.    My  business  interests  demand  it." 

"  I'm  sorry  we  ever  got  rich,"  she  said. 

"  Say  at  once  that  you're  sorry  I  have  made  a 
success  of  my  life,"  he  retorted  testily. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  spoken  harshly  to 
her,  and  the  blood  rushed  to  her  face.  The  injustice 
of  his  words  hurt  her  pride. 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that,"  she  replied  gently.  "  Of 
course,  I'm  glad  of  your  success.  Who  has  the  right 
to  rejoice  more  than  I?  Who  was  more  eager  for  it 
than  I?  You  can't  blame  me  for  regretting  those 
happy  evenings  at  Glendale  when  I  had  you  all  to 
myself." 

Roy  knew  that  she  had  reason  to  complain.  He  had 
no  good  excuse  to  offer  for  his  conduct  except  that 
the  new  life  he  was  leading  had  proved  too  fascinating 
for  him  to  resist.  He  was  conscious  of  having  treated 
his  wife  badly,  and  like  most  men  who  find  themselves 
in  the  wrong,  he  tried  to  brazen  it  out. 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  "  he  exclaimed  impatiently ;  "  don't 
be  so  sentimental,  Eunice.  We're  not  children  any 
longer.  Our  spooning  days  are  over.  Do  you  suppose 
I  could  be  where  I  am  to-day  if  I  were  to  let  my  mind 
dwell  on  mawkish  sentimentality?  My  brain  is  whirl- 
ing with  figures,  calculating  profits,  devising  new 
schemes  for  the  further  development  of  the  Company. 
With  my  mind  absorbed  in  such  big  things  you  ought 
to  understand  that  I  have  no  time  for  trifling." 


THE    GAME  347 

Eunice  sighed  and  said  nothing  and  no  one  could 
have  guessed  from  her  manner  that  in  that  heartless 
speech  her  pride  and  affection  had  received  a  death 
blow. 

For  a  few  days  Roy  seemed  anxious  to  make  amends. 
He  came  home  earlier  and  he  avoided  dinner  engage- 
ments with  Harvey  and  his  other  club  acquaintances, 
but  Eunice  derived  little  comfort  from  the  sacrifice. 
She  could  see  by  his  abstracted  manner  that  his 
thoughts  were  elsewhere.  He  was  moody  and  silent 
and  answered  in  monosyllables.  Eunice's  heart  sank. 
Such  companionship  as  this  was  worse  than  none. 
Gradually  he  appeared  to  forget  what  had  passed  be- 
tween them.  Once  more  his  chair  at  the  dinner  table 
was  empty  night  after  night,  the  mysterious  trips  to 
New  York  were  resumed  and  things  went  on  as 
before. 

And  now  as  she  sat  watching  the  long  white  stretch 
of  road  that  led  to  the  railroad  depot,  a  lonely  solitary 
figure  amid  the  deepening  shadows  of  the  garden, 
awaiting  the  homecoming  of  her  lord,  she  could  not 
help  thinking  of  the  days  when  she  and  Teddy  used 
to  sit  on  the  porch  of  the  cottage  at  Glendale,  watching 
for  him  coming  from  the  steel  works,  and  great  silent 
tears  stole  down  her  cheeks  as  she  thought  of  that 
scene  and  the  change  which  time  and  success  had 
brought.  Could  it  be  possible  that  her  happy  days 
were  ended  forever?  Could  they  never  be  all  in  all 


348  THE   END    OF 

to  each  other  as  before  ?  Had  this  cursed  wealth  really 
robbed  her  of  him  as  she  had  feared  and  predicted? 

Yet  only  last  Saturday  something-  had  occurred  which 
once  more  revived  hope  in  her  breast.  Roy  had  told 
her  he  was  going  to  New  York  on  business,  and  did 
not  expect  to  be  back  for  a  week.  She  was  silent  for 
a  moment  and  then  she  said  wistfully : 

"  Couldn't  you  be  back  for  dinner  Friday  evening, 
Roy?" 

"  No,  I'm  afraid  not,"  he  replied.  "  There's  an  im- 
portant directors'  meeting  in  Wall  Street  and  I've  a 
lot  of  other  business  to  look  after.  I  don't  know  when 
I  can  get  through." 

Eunice  looked  disappointed  and  her  sensitive  mouth 
trembled  at  the  corners. 

"  Do  you  know  what  Friday  is,  Roy?  "  she  asked. 

He  looked  puzzled  and  tried  to  think. 

"  No,"  he  stammered,  "  I  don't " 

"  It  will  be  the  anniversary  of  our  marriage,"  she 
said  simply. 

"  Oh,  that's  so !  "  he  rejoined  with  some  embarrass- 
ment. 

"  I  thought  you  would  like  to  be  home  for  our  anni- 
versary," said  Eunice.  "  I  had  planned  a  nice  little 
dinner.  Even  Grace  was  looking  forward  to  it." 

Roy  was  in  a  dilemma.  He  had  made  engagements 
which  it  would  be  hard  to  break,  but  he  could  not  be 
a  brute.  It  would  be  cruel  to  leave  her  alone  on  such 


THE    GAME  349 

a  day.  Taking  a  sudden  resolution,  he  turned  to  kiss 
his  wife  good-by. 

"  All  right,  dear.  I'll  come  back  Friday  for  dinner. 
You  may  expect  me  on  the  6.50  train.  We'll  have  a 
good  time  together.  Have  the  automobile  at  the  sta- 
tion and  come  down  to  the  road  to  meet  me.  It  will 
remind  me  of  the  old  days  to  see  you  standing  there 
waiting  for  me." 

He  kissed  her  and  was  gone. 

If  he  had  spoken  this  way  it  must  be  that  he  still 
loved  her.  Perhaps  she  had  imagined  all  these  things 
which  had  made  her  so  unhappy.  After  all,  such  a 
busy  man  has  little  time  for  sentiment.  Directly  she 
had  reminded  him  of  their  anniversary,  he  was  at  once 
willing  to  break  his  engagements  so  as  to  be  with  her. 
To  please  him  she  had  put  on  one  of  her  prettiest 
frocks — one  that  he  liked,  and  in  her  bosom  was  a 
bunch  of  violets,  his  favorite  flower.  She  had  told  the 
cook  to  prepare  a  specially  tempting  dinner,  with  dishes 
he  was  particularly  fond  of.  She  wanted  to  do  all  she 
could  to  make  his  home  attractive  to  him,  so  he  would 
not  want  to  go  elsewhere,  and  after  dinner  she  would 
sit  at  the  piano  and  play  Beethoven  to  him. 

She  would  speak  frankly,  put  aside  her  pride  and 
open  her  heart  to  him.  She  would  confess  that 
she  loved  him  more  than  she  ever  did.  She 
would  overlook  anything,  forgive  everything,  if  he 
would  only  love  her  as  he  used  to  and  give  her  some 


350  THE   END    OP 

of  his  time.  She  would  be  patient  and  not  exacting. 
And  her  heart  beat  more  hopefully  when  she  thought 
how  she  would  throw  her  arms  round  his  neck  and 
win  him  back  to  her  by  the  strength  of  her  love  and 
devotion. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  patter  of  running  feet  and  a 
little  girl,  daintily  dressed,  ran  through  the  bushes  to 
where  Eunice  was  sitting.  The  sun  had  disappeared 
completely  and  it  was  growing  dark. 

"  Mother,  why  are  you  sitting  in  the  garden  so 
long  ?  "  complained  the  child.  "  I'm  so  lonely  for  you 
at  the  house !  " 

"  I'm  waiting  for  papa,  dearest.  He'll  be  here  soon 
and  then  mamma  will  come  to  you." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  papa  will  come  ?  "  persisted 
the  child. 

"  He  is  sure  to  come.  He  said  he  would,  dear.  It 
is  our  anniversary." 

"  Papa  once  promised  to  bring  me  a  doll  which  could 
speak  and  he  didn't,"  pouted  the  child. 

"  Now  run  in,  dear.  It's  too  late  for  you  to  be  out. 
I'll  come  with  papa  presently." 

The  child  ran  off  and  Eunice  rose  and  strolled  down 
to  the  gates  that  opened  on  the  road.  The  automobile 
had  gone  to  the  station  half  an  hour  before. 

For  fifteen  minutes  she  waited  thus,  straining  her 
eyes  to  see  the  automobile  in  the  distance,  eager  to 
catch  the  first  glance  of  the  face  she  still  loved.  But 


THE    GAME  351 

nothing  came.  She  looked  at  her  watch.  Half-past 
seven.  The  train  must  be  late.  Another  ten  minutes 
passed  and  still  nothing.  An  uncomfortable  feeling 
began  to  come  over  Eunice.  Suppose  he  did  not  come, 
after  all?  Suddenly  she  saw  a  light  in  the  distance. 
Ah,  there  it  was — the  headlight  of  the  automobile! 
She  ran  down  the  road  to  meet  it.  The  light  came 
closer,  but  it  did  not  grow  in  size.  She  could  not 
understand.  It  could  not  be  an  automobile.  Presently 
the  light  ran  rapidly  up.  It  was  a  bicycle  and  riding 
it  was  a  telegraph  messenger.  He  held  out  an  en- 
velope. 

"  Mrs.  Roy  Marshall,  Altonia,"  he  said. 

"Yes — that's  for  me,"  faltered  Eunice,  her  heart, 
misgiving  her.  Her  first  thought  was  that  Roy  had 
met  with  an  accident.  Her  face  pale,  and  shaking 
from  fright,  she  tore  open  the  envelope: 

"Awfully  sorry.  Am  detained  in  New  York.  Im- 
portant business.  Roy." 

"  Any  answer,  m'm  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

"  No — no  answer,"  said  Eunice  as  she  turned  away 
with  a  choking  sound  in  her  voice,  like  a  plaintive  sob. 


352  THE   END    OP 


CHAPTER   III 

CENTRAL  PARK,  in  addition  to  being  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  pleasure  grounds  in  the 
world,  serves  also  the  useful  purpose  of 
plainly  marking  out  the  different  districts  of  the  me* 
tropolis,  segregating  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  cul' 
tured  and  the  vulgar,  compelling  each  class  to  keep 
within  the  limits  of  its  respective  boundary.  Thus  on 
the  south,  the  march  northward  of  the  vast  business 
interests  is  checked  at  Fifty-ninth  Street;  on  the  east 
the  million  dollar  palaces  of  the  kings  of  finance  are 
aligned  in  solitary  and  competitive  grandeur ;  up  north 
are  the  flat  dwellers  of  Harlem  who  also  like  to  be 
styled  New  Yorkers,  while  to  the  west  lies  the  seduc- 
tive country  of  Bohemia  with  its  red-light  haunts  and 
its  artistic  studios. 

Rembrandt  Hall,  No.  —  Central  Park  West,  was 
one  of  the  most  imposing,  as  it  was  one  of  the  most 
exclusive,  studio  buildings  in  New  York  City.  Its  stu- 
dios were  eagerly  sought  after,  for  not  only  were  they 
exceptionally  spacious,  with  every  convenience  and 
luxury  the  modern  builder  could  devise,  but  they  were 
very  expensive  and  consequently  very  chic  and  fash- 
ionable. The  entrance  and  court  were  particularly 


THE    GAME  353 

imposing,  appealing  at  once  to  the  artistic  sense.  The 
walls  of  the  main  hall  were  ornamented  by  ten  large 
panels  glorifying  the  sister  arts  of  Painting,  Poetry, 
Music  and  Literature.  The  entire  ground  floor  was 
laid  out  in  the  style  of  an  Algerian  garden  with  rattan 
chairs,  oriental  rugs  and  palmetto  trees.  The  floor 
itself  was  of  mosaic.  Overhead  was  a  lofty  dome  of 
stained  glass  through  which  shafts  of  light  fell  in 
subdued,  rich  colors,  on  a  small  circular  basin  filled 
with  floating  lilies  and  having  in  the  centre  four  nude 
nymphs  who  held  up  goblets  from  which  gushed  water. 
On  either  side  of  the  court  broad  marble  stairways  led 
to  the  studios  on  the  upper  floors,  the  steps  being 
covered  with  a  rich  pile  carpet.  There  were  also  two 
elevators  and  half  a  dozen  hall  boys  and  attendants  in 
smart  uniforms. 

Here  art  made  her  abode — not  the  art  of  Murger's 
Bohemia,  the  days  when  Schaunard,  Rodolphe  and 
Marcel  were  in  daily  peril  of  eviction  for  non-payment 
of  rent,  stuck  penny  candles  in  wine  bottles  for  pur- 
poses of  illumination  and  were  content  with  cracked 
windows  under  a  leaking  attic  roof.  Those  were  the 
days  when  art  starved.  To-day  art  was  well  paid  and 
those  who  served  it  well  could  afford  to  pay  the  ex- 
orbitant rents  asked  at  Rembrandt  Hall.  The  present 
tenants  included  a  distinguished  sculptor  whose  income 
was  not  less  than  $100,000  a  year,  two  fashionable 
portrait  painters,  an  artist  for  a  Sunday  paper's  comic 


354  THE   END    OF 

supplement  who  made  so  much  money  that  he  had 
to  employ  a  secretary  to  look  after  it,  a  famous  novelist 
whose  books  sold  by  the  hundreds  of  thousands,  a 
prima  donna  who  received  $3,000  every  time  she  sang, 
an  actor  who  had  been  playing  the  same  part  for  two 
consecutive  years  and  getting  rich  at  the  rate  of  $2,000 
a  week  and  a  playwright  who  could  write  six  successful 
plays  a  year.  Such  people  as  these  did  not  have  to 
economize  in  the  matter  of  rent. 

One  of  the  two  fashionable  portraitists  already  al- 
luded to  was  Cleo  Gordon,  who  was  reputed  to  make 
a  large  income  with  her  brush.  Beyond  the  fact  that 
she  was  very  beautiful  and  very  clever  no  one  really 
knew  anything  about  her  affairs,  but  it  was  supposed 
that  she  had  money.  That  was  the  only  way  in  which 
the  world  could  explain  her  expensive  manner  of  liv- 
ing, her  beautiful  toilettes,  her  jewels,  her  carriages, 
her  entertainments.  She,  herself,  always  said  she  came 
from  California,  that  lusty  State  which  has  given  so 
many  children  to  art  and  literature,  but  on  the  subject 
of  her  parentage  she  was  silent.  No  Calif ornian  had 
ever  heard  of  her  or  her  family  and  thus  she  remained 
a  delightful  mystery.  According  to  her  account  she 
was  so  successful  in  idealizing  a  particularly  ill-favored 
woman  that  the  news  ran  like  wild-fire  through  all 
the  drawing-rooms  of  New  York.  No  longer  need  the 
too  truthful  camera  betray  the  ravages  of  time  and  the 
cruelties  of  nature.  Here  was  an  artist  who  could 


THE   GAME  355 

make  ugly  women  positively  beautiful.  From  that  time 
on  Cleo  Gordon  had  all  the  portraits  to  paint  she 
wanted,  and  as  she  combined  business  sagacity  with 
artistic  sense,  it  was  not  surprising  that  after  a  year  or 
two  she  was  able  to  move  from  her  dingy  attic  studio 
to  the  more  luxurious  quarters  of  Rembrandt  Hall. 

Her  studio,  situated  three  flights  up,  commanded  a 
magnificent  view  of  the  park,  and  in  the  richness  of 
its  appointments  and  furnishings  was  one  of  the  most 
luxurious  and  artistic  in  New  York.  The  studio 
proper  was  an  enormous  room,  fully  thirty  feet  high 
and  perfectly  lighted.  Running  all  round  the  room, 
about  fifteen  feet  from  the  floor,  was  a  balcony  giving 
access  to  the  sleeping  apartments  and  connecting  with 
the  studio  by  a  graceful  staircase.  The  dining-room, 
butler's  pantry,  etc.,  were  off  the  studio  on  the  ground 
floor.  The  furnishings  were  rich  in  the  extreme,  the 
harmony  of  color  and  general  arrangement  betraying 
the  hand  of  an  expert  in  artistic  effect.  The  inlaid 
floor  was  highly  polished  and  covered  for  the  most 
part  with  costly  oriental  rugs.  One  wall  was  entirely 
covered  from  ceiling  to  balcony  by  an  immense  tapes- 
try depicting  a  scene  from  the  Trojan  wars,  and  on 
the  wall  at  the  far  end  of  the  studio,  so  placed  as  to 
immediately  catch  the  eye  on  entering,  was  a  large 
painting  of  Venus  and  Adonis,  believed  to  be  genuine 
Rubens.  Rare  silk  oriental  rugs  hung  from  the  bal- 
cony and  there  were  cosy  corners  everywhere,  inviting 


356  THE    END    OF 

sensuous  repose.  Over  a  Turkish  divan  was  suspended 
a  bronze  lamp  of  Byzantine  design  in  which  a  rare 
oil  was  burning  and  emitting  a  fragrant  perfume-like 
incense.  The  whole  decoration  scheme  was  oriental 
and  exotic  in  character.  Paintings  in  massive  gilt 
frames,  marble  and  bronze  statuary,  delicate  Japanese 
cloisonne  vases,  sacred  Russian  icons,  hideous  Chinese 
gods,  beautiful  Indian  ivory  carvings,  glittering  bat- 
tle-axes and  spears  and  skin-covered  shields,  relics  of 
savage  warfare,  ecclesiastical  stoles  heavily  embroid- 
ered with  jewels,  antique  wood  carvings  from  Venice, 
tiger  skins  from  India,  marquetry  cabinets  filled  with 
bric-a-brac,  books  richly  bound  in  vellum,  a  carved 
stone  mantel  Renaissance  style — all  these  curios  of  the 
art  world  were  mingled  in  picturesque  and  artistic  con- 
fusion, while  an  easel  here  and  there  bearing  a  canvas 
just  commenced,  showed  that  it  was  a  real  workshop 
as  well  as  a  show  place. 

Two  persons  were  in  the  studio  late  this  October 
afternoon.  One  was  Cleo  Gordon,  who  sat,  palette  in 
hand,  giving  the  finishing  touches  to  the  portrait  of 
a  man  seen  in  profile.  Every  few  minutes  the  artist 
rose  from  her  stool  and  stepped  back  in  order  to  get 
a  new  perspective  of  the  work.  Then,  apparently  sat- 
isfied, she  turned  with  a  smile  to  her  sitter. 

"  Aren't  you  tired  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Who  could  ever  tire  of  sitting  here  watching  you  ?  " 

Cleo  pursed  her  lips,  in  pretended  anger.    She  was 


THE    GAME  357 

so  accustomed  to  such  speeches  that  they  sounded 
commonplace. 

"  Please  don't,"  she  protested.  "  All  men  say  those 
things.  I  thought  you  were  different  from  other  men. 
That's  why  I  first  took  a  fancy  to  you  and  asked  you 
to  come  here." 

"  And  now  you're  disappointed  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  so,"  she  rejoined,  turning  her  head 
away  so  he  could  admire  her  profile,  almost  classic  in 
the  purity  of  its  outline  and  crowned  by  a  wealth  of 
Titian  hair  done  up  in  a  loose  Psyche  knot,  and  which 
the  strong  light  from  above  touched  here  and  there 
with  golden  glints. 

She  wore  a  loose-fitting  aesthetic  gown,  low  at  the 
neck  where  it  was  fastened  with  an  antique  jewel,  and 
encircled  round  the  slim  waist  by  a  gold  girdle  studded 
with  turquoises.  The  alabaster  whiteness  of  her  skin 
caused  her  delicate  face  to  look  transparent  in  the  half 
light  of  the  studio,  and  with  the  graceful  slope  of  her 
admirably  moulded  shoulders  and  bust,  her  rosy 
voluptuous  mouth,  her  splendid  blue  eyes,  shaded  by 
long  dreamy  lashes,  she  presented  a  picture  of  almost 
ideal  youthful  loveliness.  As  he  gazed  upon  her  with 
the  enthusiastic  and  impersonal  interest  with  which  one 
views  a  work  of  art,  Roy  wondered  how  any  human 
being  could  be  so  perfect. 

Qeo  was  beautiful  and  she  knew  it.  She  had  known 
it  ever  since  the  time  when,  a  half-starved  girl  of  four- 


358  THE   END   OF 

teen,  she  one  day  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  glorious  hair 
and  eyes  in  a  mirror.  She  soon  realized  their  power 
when  the  men  turned  after  her  in  the  street,  and  she 
was  not  slow  to  learn  that  the  world,  especially  the 
masculine  part  of  it,  loves  a  pretty  face.  As  she  grew 
to  womanhood,  she  was  interested  in  only  two  things — 
her  art  and  her  personal  appearance,  and  the  latter 
always  came  first.  Even  when  she  was  poor  she 
dressed  and  lived  like  a  queen.  Even  when  forced  to 
live  in  cheap  boarding  houses  she  must  have  her  pri- 
vate bath,  her  late  sleep  in  the  morning  and  all  the 
other  comforts,  no  matter  what  hardships  she  suffered 
in  other  directions.  She  would  go  without  enough  to 
eat,  but  she  would  wear  the  handsomest  gowns  and 
most  stylish  hats.  Any  one  seeing  her  on  Fifth  Avenue 
would  take  her  for  a  millionaire's  wife,  whereas,  if 
she  had  dropped  her  purse  all  one  would  find  in  it 
would  be  a  few  cents  and  probably  a  pawn  ticket. 
During  the  first  year  of  her  art  apprenticeship  in  New 
York,  when  her  benefactor  limited  her  expenses  to  $25 
a  week,  she  wore  sixteen  different  hats  and  eight 
gowns,  all  "  creations,"  in  a  single  season.  An  expert 
milliner  and  dressmaker,  she  made  all  these  hats  and 
dresses  herself,  so  what  would  have  been  impossible 
for  another  woman  was  mere  child's  play  to  her. 

Her  one  desire  in  life  was  to  exercise  over  men  the 
power  the  beautiful  woman  wields.  She  was  the  an- 
tique Siren  incarnate,  luring  men  on  to  destruction  by 


THE   GAME  359 

the  power  of  her  beauty,  and  heartlessly  treating  them 
with  contempt  directly  they  were  at  her  feet.  She  was 
not  mercenary  nor  was  she  sensual.  She  made  with 
her  brush  all  the  money  she  wanted,  and  one  of  the 
secrets  of  her  power  over  men  was  her  complete  inde- 
pendence. Men  who  had  become  her  slaves  showered 
costly  gifts  upon  her,  but  most  of  these  she  declined. 
If  she  accepted  one,  it  was  a  mark  of  special  favor.  No 
one  could  question  her  morals.  Her  reputation  in  this 
respect  was  spotless.  The  world  said  cynically  that 
she  must  be  a  prodigy  of  innocence  or  a  prodigy 
of  cleverness.  None  of  the  men  with  whom  she  was 
on  intimate  terms  could  boast  of  a  victory.  She  seemed 
to  have  no  heart.  She  was  as  much  a  mystery  to 
her  intimates  as  to  outsiders.  All  she  appeared  to  de- 
sire was  the  power  of  bringing  men  to  her  feet.  When 
that  was  done  she  lost  all  interest  in  them,  they  could 
go.  As  she  herself  admitted,  she  had  been  attracted 
to  Roy  because  he  was  different  from  the  other  men 
she  met.  Most  of  her  men  friends  were,  like  herself, 
artists — painters  or  sculptors,  or  else  men  who  could 
discuss  art  matters  glibly  and  with  authority,  such  as 
critics,  journalists  and  authors.  She  liked  Roy  just 
because  he  was  not  versed  in  the  jargon  of  the  studios. 
He  knew  nothing  about  "  open  air  "  schools,  "  genre  " 
painting,  or  impressionism,  but  he  could  tell  of  won- 
derful feats  accomplished  in  the  industrial  world,  he 
could  give  a  fascinating  account  of  a  marvellous  empire 


360  THE    END    OF 

of  steel  over  which  he  and  a  few  others  virtually  ruled 
as  monarchs.  This  was  power,  and  Cleo  would  not 
have  been  true  to  herself  had  she  not  felt  the  potent 
influence  of  its  spell.  She  knew  Roy  wa  very  rich, 
but  she  cared  nothing  for  that.  She  knew  he  was  mar- 
ried, but  that  did  not  concern  her.  She  only  knew 
that  he  was  one  of  the  central  figures  of  the  steel 
world,  and  it  pleased  her  vanity  to  think  that  she 
possessed  the  power  to  attract  and  hold  a  man  of 
such  force  and  character. 

Moreover,  his  face  and  the  shape  of  his  head — ag- 
gressive, alert,  masterful — appealed  strongly  to  her 
artistic  sense  and  she  had  asked  permission  to  make  a 
few  studies  of  him,  permission  which  he  had  readily 
granted.  This,  naturally,  had  necessitated  several  visits 
to  the  studio  and  it  was  not  long  before  their  casual 
acquaintance  had  grown  into  a  delightful  intimacy. 
The  personality  of  the  woman  herself  was  so  magnetic 
and  the  atmosphere  of  this  art  world  so  novel  and 
attractive  that  Roy  could  not  resist  paying  a  visit  to 
Rembrandt  Hall  every  time  his  business  affairs  took 
him  to  New  York.  Cleo  encouraged  the  acquaint- 
ance in  a  way  in  which  she  was  an  adept.  She  usually 
had  tempting  little  dinners  for  him  served  in  the  studio, 
where  they  were  secluded  from  prying  eyes,  and  they 
dined  luxuriously  tete  &  tete,  waited  on  by  Achmet, 
Cleo's  Ethiopian  servant,  who  wore  the  picturesque 
dress  of  his  native  country.  After  Achmet  had  served 


THE    GAME  361 

Turkish  coffee  in  demi-tasses  of  daintiest  Sevres,  Cleo 
would  sit  on  a  low  divan  near  him  and  sing  Southern 
melodies  to  the  accompaniment  of  a  mandolin. 

The  portrait  on  which  she  was  now  engaged  had 
been  started  three  weeks  before.  It  was  to  be  Cleo's 
chief  exhibit  at  the  forthcoming  American  Artists' 
Exposition  and  then  it  was  to  go  to  Altonia. 

"  Does  Mrs.  Marshall  know  you  are  sitting  for  this 
picture  ?  "  she  asked  as  she  went  on  working. 

Roy  hesitated  and  the  lie  was  ready  on  his  lips.  But 
he  thought  better  of  it,  for  he  replied  hastily: 

"  No,  I  didn't  tell  her.  I  did  not  know  how  she 
might  take  it.  Women  are  so  queer." 

He  felt  like  a  cur  directly  the  words  were  out  of 
his  mouth.  He  felt  that  his  presence  in  this  studio 
was  an  act  of  treachery  to  Eunice,  but  he  had  gone 
too  far  to  retreat  now.  For  months  he  had  known 
that  he  and  his  wife  were  drifting  further  and  further 
apart,  and  instead  of  blaming  himself  alone,  he  nour- 
ished a  sullen  resentment  against  Eunice.  She  did 
not  understand  him,  he  argued  to  himself,  and  never 
would.  She  was  unable  to  comprehend  that  a 
man  in  his  position  could  not  be  kept  in  apron 
strings.  Now  he  was  rich,  he  wanted  to  enjoy 
to  the  full  all  that  life  had  to  offer.  He  had 
unbosomed  himself  to  his  friend  Harvey,  who 
professed  the  greatest  sympathy  and  gave  him  much 
valuable  advice.  Women,  said  Harvey,  were  all  alike, 


362  THE    END    OF 

conventional,  small-minded,  unreasonable  creatures 
whose  lives  ran  in  narrow  channels.  That  was  why 
he  had  remained  single.  The  married  man  was  the 
unfortunate  victim  of  a  social  convention  who  soon 
discovered  that  the  shackles  he  wore  round  his  ankles 
were  just  as  real  and  irksome  as  those  of  the  ante- 
bellum slave.  Women  were  the  most  unpractical  be- 
ings, they  saw  everything  from  a  narrow,  distorted 
viewpoint,  they  could  not  understand  that  a  man  might 
be  so  constituted  physically  that  certain  tastes  and  in- 
stincts could  be  curbed  only  under  protest.  Most 
married  men,  irritated  by  petty  nagging,  he  insisted, 
were  constantly  on  the  verge  of  open  rebellion,  and 
if  there  were  not  more  divorces  it  was  because  man,  as 
a  rule,  was  a  good-natured,  patient,  long-suffering 
animal,  willing  to  put  up  with  almost  anything  rather 
than  incur  notoriety.  Marriage  was  the  greatest 
blunder  in  the  world,  for  it  violated  one  of  the  strongest 
of  nature's  laws,  which  distinctly  favored  polygamy. 
If  the  average  husband  was  faithful  in  wedlock  it  was 
either  for  lack  of  opportunity  or  because  he  was  a 
natural-born — Joseph.  Such  were  Leonard  Harvey's 
views,  and  with  such  a  mentor  it  was  hardly  sur- 
prising that  Roy's  notions  of  what  a  man  owed  to  the 
mother  of  his  children  had  become  warped  and  dis- 
torted. 

At  last,  tired  of  working,   Cleo  threw  down  her 
brushes,  and  rose. 


THE   GAME  363 

"  How  do  you  like  it?  "  she  asked. 

He  left  the  place  where  he  was  sitting  and  came 
over  to  inspect  the  progress  made. 

"  I  think  you've  flattered  me,"  he  said.  "  I'm  not 
as  good-looking  as  that." 

She  laughed,  a  low  musical  laugh  which  sounded 
like  the  purling  of  water  running  over  small  pebbles. 

"  Of  course  you're  not,"  she  rejoined.  "  Didn't  you 
know  that  I  idealize  all  my  sitters  ?  That's  how  I  made 
my  reputation." 

She  ran  up  the  staircase  leading  to  the  balcony  and 
disappeared.  Presently  she  returned  with  something 
in  her  hand. 

"  Do  you  like  that  better  ?  "  she  said. 

It  was  a  pen  and  ink  sketch  of  Roy,  so  admirably 
done  as  to  look  like  an  engraving.  The  pose  was  so 
natural  and  the  execution  so  perfect  that  it  looked  life- 
like. 

"  Yes,  that's  more  as  I  am.  But  when  did  you  do 
that  ?  "  demanded  Roy,  taken  by  surprise. 

"  Oh,  I  amused  myself  doing  it  in  odd  moments. 
I  caught  the  pose  one  day  you  were  sitting  and  I  liked 
it  so  much  that  I  made  a  sketch  of  it  myself.  I  want 
you  to  autograph  it,  for  I  shall  keep  it  as  a  souvenir." 

She  brought  him  pen  and  ink. 

"  What  shall  I  say  ?  "  he  asked,  fingering  the  pen 
nervously. 

"  Whatever  you  feel,"  she  retorted  carelessly.    She 


364  THE    END    OF 

was  standing  close  by  him  and  her  hair  touched  his 
shoulder.  A  vague  subtle  odor  seemed  to  come  from 
her  and  intoxicate  him.  She  lifted  her  head  and  her 
splendid  young  eyes  met  his.  For  a  moment  he  trem- 
bled. He  could  hardly  see.  Then,  hardly  knowing 
what  he  was  doing,  he  put  his  arm  round  her,  and  said 
feverishly : 

"  What  I  feel,"  he  said,  "  what  I  feel— that  you  are 
the  most  fascinating  woman  in  the  whole  world — that's 
what  I  feel." 

She  clapped  her  hands  like  a  child. 

"  That'll  do  nicely— put  that." 

He  took  the  pen  and  under  the  portrait  wrote : 

"  To  the  lovely  Cleo  Gordon — the  most  fascinating 
woman  in  the  world — the  everlasting  homage  of 
Roy  Marsliall" 

"  Oh,  that's  lovely,"  she  said  when  he  laid  the  pen 
down. 

His  face  was  flushed  and  his  hand  trembled,  from 
a  guilty  conscience  or  amorous  passion,  he  did  not 
know  which.  She  turned  to  go. 

"  I'll  take  it  upstairs.  I  keep  it  with  the  treasures 
of  my  boudoir,"  she  said. 

Before  she  could  reach  the.  stairs  Roy  intercepted 
her.  Seizing  her  round  the  waist,  he  cried: 

"Where's  my  pay?" 

He  tried  to  kiss  her,  but  she  quickly  averted  her 
face  and  her  lithe  body  slipped  out  of  his  grasp  and 


THE    GAME  365 

she  was  on  top  of  the  stairs  laughing  at  him  over  the 
balcony  before  he  had  recovered  from  his  surprise. 
Shaking  her  finger  at  him,  she  cried: 

"  Oh,  fie,  Mr.  Married  Man.  What  would  your  wife 
say?" 

With  another  merry  peal  of  laughter  she  disappeared 
within  her  boudoir.  When  she  came  downstairs  again, 
she  found  Roy  sulkily  pulling  on  his  gloves,  prior  to 
taking  his  departure. 

"  Are  you  cross  with  me  ?  "  she  asked  coyly.  She 
looked  archly  up  into  his  face  and  he  could  not  help 
smiling. 

"  Do  me  one  favor?  "  he  said. 

"What  may  that  be?"  she  asked. 

"  Please  don't  mention  my  wife's  name,  here.  She 
and  I  don't  get  along  any  too  well,  and  it  only  annoys 
me  to  have  her  name  dragged  in  all  the  time." 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  sir,"  she  said  mockingly. 
Then  she  added,  "  Now,  as  I  treated  you  badly  for 
signing  the  sketch,  I'm  going  to  make  amends.  I  want 
you  to  come  Friday  and  have  dinner  with  me." 

"  Friday  ?  "  he  echoed. 

"  Yes,  the  25th.  We  shall  be  all  alone.  I  won't  have 
any  one  else — just  you.  And  I'll  be  awfully  nice  to 
you  to  make  up  for  this  afternoon.  Say  you'll  come." 

There  was  a  pleading  note  in  her  voice  and  a 
promise  in  her  eyes.  Her  rosy  mouth  turned  up  to 
his  seemed  like  a  luscious  cherry  which  he  could  bite 


366  THE    END    OF 

at  will.  It  was  hard  to  resist  such  an  invitation,  yet 
Friday  was  his  wedding  anniversary.  He  had  prom- 
ised Eunice  to  be  home.  He  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't,"  he  said. 

"  Why  not?  "  she  insisted. 

"  I  have  another  engagement,"  he  replied. 

"Another  engagement?"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes 
darkening.  The  thought  that  he  could  give  any  one 
the  preference  over  her  angered  her.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  her  that  it  could  be  with  his  wife.  "  Who 
is  it  ?  "  she  demanded  petulantly. 

"  My  wife,"  he  answered  laconically. 

They  both  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a 
moment  and  then  she  burst  into  a  merry  peal  of 
laughter. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  forgot,"  she  cried  ironically,  "  you're 
a  married  man.  Your  wife  expects  you  home.  Go 
to  her  like  the  dutiful  husband  you  are !  Hurry  back 
to  Pittsburg  or  she'll  scold.  I'm  not  keeping  you. 
Go — go — go !  "  she  said  impetuously,  almost  fiercely. 
"  You  have  no  right  to  stay  here.  I  don't  want  you. 
Go — go  to  her." 

She  turned  from  him,  but  he  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"  No,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  I'll  stay.  I'll  send 
a  telegram  to  Pittsburg." 


THE    GAME  367 


CHAPTER  IV 

AMONG  the  many  places  of  interest  which  cos- 
mopolitan New  York  had  to  show  the  country 
visitor  none  excited  more  eager  curiosity  than 
Martinetti's,  that  world-famous  restaurant  near  Wash- 
ington Square  which  was  known  from  one  end  of  the 
continent  to  the  other  as  the  wickedest  place  in  all 
Manhattan.  The  first  question  asked  of  the  artist  of 
the  megaphone  by  the  smug,  self-respecting  passenger 
on  the  "  rubber  neck  "  wagon  was  the  whereabouts  of 
Martinetti's,  nor  did  he  rest  until,  with  a  knowing 
wink,  the  conductor  pointed  out  a  quiet-looking  house 
painted  white  with  green  shutters  and  yelled :  "  On 
your  right  Martinetti's,  the  famous  restaurant,  the 
scene  of  the  sensational  Smiley  dinner,  when  a  nude 
young  lady  was  served  in  a  pie  and  a  lot  of  other 
monkey  shines  not  fit  to  be  discussed  on  top  of  a  family 
coach."  And  this  cargo  of  precious  bucolic  souls — 
staid  spinsters,  spectacled  school  marms,  loquacious 
drummers,  lantern-jawed  professors,  rotund  parsons 
and  hayseed  yaps — conscious  of  their  own  rectitude, 
gaped  in  open-mouthed  amazement  that  a  place  with 
so  bad  a  character  should  have  so  modest  and  decorous 
an  exterior. 


368  THE    END    OF 

Maftinetti's  deserved  its  international  reputation. 
Whenever  a  startling  scandal  shocked  the  town,  Mar- 
tinetti's  always  had  something  to  do  with  it;  when  a 
Wall  Street  plunger  suddenly  did  away  with  himself, 
he  usually  had  the  bad  taste  to  select  Martinetti's  as 
his  passing-on  place;  whenever  a  gay  deceiver  was 
publicly  horsewhipped  by  an  irate  wife,  Martinetti's 
was  invariably  the  scene  of  the  battle;  whenever  a 
party  of  convivial  spirits  wished  to  give  an  exclusive 
little  party  where  they  could  do  what  they  liked,  enter- 
tain whom  they  liked  in  the  way  that  they  liked,  Martin- 
etti's was  just  the  place  for  it.  In  short,  the  demure- 
looking  house  with  the  green  shutters  was  notorious 
for  its  veiled  ladies,  its  decollete  suppers  in  cabinets 
particulier,  its  gay  proceedings  behind  hermetically 
sealed  doors  and  windows,  and  orgies  of  all  kinds 
which  went  on  nightly  right  under  the  discreet  nose 
of  the  police.  The  mad  pursuit  of  pleasure,  regard- 
less of  health  or  cost — in  other  words,  the  pace  that 
kills — that  was  the  kind  of  life  one  saw  every  day  at 
Martinetti's.  All  morning  and  afternoon  dead  and 
silent  as  the  tomb,  with  the  coming  of  night  the 
restaurant  flashed  into  a  place  of  electric  splendor, 
brilliant  with  crowds  of  well-dressed  men  and  fashion- 
ably gowned  women,  the  air  filled  with  appetizing 
odors  of  delicate  cooking  and  the  exhilarating  aroma 
of  rare  wines,  while  dozens  of  well-bred  waiters  who 


THE    GAME  369 

saw  everything  and  said  nothing,  moved  noiselessly 
and  discreetly  about. 

From  the  street  the  restaurant  appeared  as  quiet 
and  dark  as  the  rest  of  the  houses  on  the  block,  the 
curtains  being  tightly  drawn  and  every  sound  muffled 
behind  double  doors.  Only  the  line  of  carriages  wait- 
ing patiently  at  the  entrance  for  their  bibulous  owners 
betrayed  the  fact  that  there  was  life  within.  At  Mar- 
tinetti's  they  did  not  cater  to  a  transient  trade.  In  fact, 
it  was  discouraged.  If  a  stranger  happened  to  find 
his  way  in,  he  would  be  told  that  all  the  tables  were 
engaged,  which  was  only  a  polite  way  of  telling  him 
that  he  was  not  wanted.  The  place  had  its  regular 
patrons  and  they  paid  handsomely  enough  to  enjoy 
exclusive  service.  Leonard  Harvey  was  an  old  cus- 
tomer and  a  privileged  habitue.  If  he  needed  any- 
thing quickly,  from  the  loan  of  an  umbrella  when 
caught  in  the  rain  to  cashing  a  check  for  $5,000  to 
pay  for  a  gambling  debt,  he  knew  he  could  get  it  at 
Martinetti's.  When  he  wanted  to  give  a  little  supper 
party  for  men  or  lady  guests,  he  had  the  choice  of 
all  the  private  rooms  and  special  pains  were  taken  by 
the  chef  to  get  up  a  novel  and  toothsome  menu ;  and, 
what  was  more  important,  once  the  coffee  and  cigars 
had  been  served  and  the  waiters  had  been  given  the 
signal  to  withdraw,  he  and  his  party  were  not  again 
disturbed.  In  vulgar  parlance,  he  had  the  run  of  the 
place,  and  being  a  bachelor  with  plenty  of  women 


370  THE   END   OF 

acquaintances,  he  found  Martinetti's  more  convenient 
than  an  apartment  for  entertaining  them. 

He  had  brought  Roy  to  the  restaurant  the  first  time 
they  were  together  in  New  York,  and  the  steel  maker 
was  fascinated  by  everything  he  saw  there.  The  in- 
solent beauty  of  the  women — he  did  not  stop  to  see 
if  it  were  real  or  artificial — the  sensuous  strains  of 
the  gypsy  music,  the  gayety  bordering  on  license, 
aroused  in  him  the  animalism  which  had  been  curbed 
for  years,  and  he  felt  a  fierce  longing  to  rush  into  this 
gay  life  which  beckoned  to  him  even  if,  like  the  moth 
in  the  flame,  he  were  to  singe  his  wings.  His  mar- 
riage vow,  Eunice's  serene,  wistful  face — if  he 
thought  of  these  at  all  it  was  with  impatience.  How 
could  any  intelligent  woman,  he  argued  to  himself, 
expect  a  man  to  go  through  life  without  tasting  its 
fiercer  joys?  Domesticity,  connubial  felicity — that 
was  all  very  well,  but  he  had  been  through  all  that. 
For  fifteen  years  he  had  slaved  and  stinted  himself 
uncomplainingly.  Now  he  was  rich  he  wanted  to  see 
more  of  life.  He  was  a  man  of  the  world — not  a 
hermit.  How  the  world  would  laugh  if  they  knew 
that  the  famous  steel  maker  was  expected  to  go 
straight  home  to  his  wife  every  evening  like  any  little 
$15  a  week  counter  jumper! 

To-day  he  had  come  to  New  York  specially  for 
Harvey's  long-announced  birthday  feast  which  would 
tax  the  ingenuity  of  Martinetti's  chef  to  the  utmost. 


THE    GAME  371 

Aware  that  the  after  effects  of  such  an  elaborate 
spread  often  last  longer  than  the  dinner  itself,  he  ex- 
pected to  be  absent  from  Pittsburg  for  at  least  a  week. 
He  had  simply  told  Eunice  that  he  did  not  expect  to 
be  back  for  some  days  and  she  had  asked  no  questions. 
In  fact,  she  had  not  spoken  to  him  at  all,  save  when 
it  was  absolutely  necessary,  ever  since  their  wedding 
anniversary  when  he  failed  to  come  home  as  he  had 
promised.  On  his  return,  he  had  tried  to  explain, 
but  she  had  listened  coldly  with  eyes  averted.  A  wall 
of  ice  seemed  to  be  growing  higher  between  them 
each  day.  They  were  like  strangers  under  the  same 
roof.  He  noticed  that  she  looked  pale  and  unhappy 
and  there  were  moments  when  he  felt  remorse,  when 
he  felt  he  could  take  her  in  his  arms  and  implore  her 
forgiveness.  But  when  his  mind  conjured  up  vivid 
pictures  of  delightful  hours  spent  at  Rembrandt  Hall, 
when  he  thought  of  Harvey's  companionship  and 
what  he  would  lose  by  giving  it  all  up,  his  flesh  was 
weak  and  he  had  not  the  courage  to  break  off  with 
the  life  he  was  leading.  The  situation  at  Altonia  was 
becoming  more  strained  and  distasteful  to  him  every 
hour  and  he  was  glad  of  any  excuse  to  rush  away  to 
the  city. 

He  1'.sr!  just  reached  Martinetti's  and  was  getting 
a  check  tor  his  hat  and  coat  from  an  attendant  when 
Harve^  ;vnne  up  and  slapped  him  on  the  back. 

"  H<  y,  old  man,  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  Why  so 


372  THE   END    OF 

blue-looking?  Wake  up,  old  sport.  You're  going 
to  have  the  time  of  your  life  to-night.  All  the  girls 
are  coming." 

"  I  was  glad  to  get  away,"  growled  Roy. 

Harvey  understood. 

"  Same  old  story,  eh?  "  he  said.  "  Well,  it's  no  use 
worrying.  You  can't  change  women.  They're  stub- 
born as  mules  once  they've  got  an  idea  in  their  heads. 
The  only  thing  to  do  is  simply  to  ignore  them.  Lead 
your  own  life,  man,  don't  let  others  make  it  for  you. 
Come  and  have  a  cocktail.  It'll  cheer  you  up." 

At  that  instant  Signer  Martinetti,  the  proprietor, 
came  up.  He  was  a  fat  little  Italian  with  jet-black 
curly  hair  and  clean-shaven  face  and  the  manners  of 
a  Chesterfield. 

"Bon  soir,  messieurs!" 

He  always  spoke  French  to  his  guests.  Firstly,  it 
was  more  fashionable;  secondly,  his  patrons  under- 
stood it  more  readily  than  Italian ;  thirdly,  it  gratified 
his  vanity  to  be  taken  for  a  Frenchman.  It  gave  his 
house  more  tone. 

"  Well,  Marty,  old  chap,"  said  Harvey  familiarly, 
"  are  you  going  to  give  us  a  good  feed  ?  " 

"Mais  oui,  Monsieur  Harvey,  mats  oui,  as  always. 
You  nevaire  have  eat  bad  in  my  house,  is  it  not  ?  To- 
night you  and  your  friends  vill  feast  like  emperors. 
You  vill  have  Russian  caviar  on  socle  of  ice,  ze  dain- 
tiest of  hors  d'oeuvres,  green  turtle  Amontillado,  a 


THE    GAME  373 

soup  that  vill  make  you  dream,  mousseline  Isabelle,  a 
specialty  of  ze  house,  canvasback  duck  a  la  Duchesse, 
capon  souffle  with  mushrooms — oh,  you  vill  be  satis- 
fied, the  chef  has  done  miracles !  "  He  gave  a  quick 
glance  round  to  see  if  any  one  was  within  hearing  and 
then  he  added,  "  And  ze  ladies — are  they  come  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Harvey.  "  They'll  come  when  we 
are  at  table.  I  do  not  want  any  of  the  men  to  see 
them.  I  want  it  to  be  a  complete  surprise.  You  must 
give  them  a  room  where  they  can  dress.  When  the 
cigars  are  served  I  wilt  give  the  signal  for  them  to 
come  in.  You  understand  ?  " 

"  Parfaitement !     Perfectly !  " 

"  Is  there  any  danger  of  the  police  taking  a  look 
in  ?  "  asked  Roy  timidly. 

Signer  Martinetti  looked  pained  at  the  mere  sug- 
gestion of  such  a  contingency. 

"  Ze  police  in  my  house,"  he  said,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "  I  am  too  big  a  restaurant — too  well 
known — too  famous  for  ze  police  to  dare  interfere 
with  my  guests.  Non,  monsieur,  no  danger  of  zat. 
Zey  come  here,  oh  yes,"  here  he  rolled  his  eyes  sig- 
nificantly, "  but  only  to  see  me  on  private  business. 
Ze  police,  zey  are  my  best  friends.  Don't  be  afraid 
while  I  am  here,  is  it  not?" 

Other  men  invited  to  the  dinner,  friends  of  Har- 
vey and  Roy,  now  began  to  arrive  in  quick  succession, 
all  in  eager  expectation  of  the  dinner,  and  they  stood 


374  THE   END    OF 

around  in  little  groups,  whispering  and  laughing  as 
one  told  the  other  of  the  surprises  that  theilr  host 
Harvey  had  up  his  sleeve.  When  they  had  all  assem- 
bled in  the  ante-room  the  maitre  d'hotel  threw  open 
the  folding  doors  leading  to  the  dining-room,  and,  pre- 
pared though  they  all  were  to  see  everything  done 
well,  an  exclamation  of  delighted  surprise  fell  from 
every  one's  lips. 

The  room,  which  was  the  most  luxurious  in  the 
house,  was  oblong  in  shape  and  every  inch  of  the  wall 
space  was  lined  with  white  marble  surmounted  with 
a  bronze  frieze  with  figures  in  relief.  The  flat  pol- 
ished surface  of  the  marble  was  relieved  at  regular 
intervals  by  fluted  columns  between  which  were 
suspended  fine  tapestries,  giving  the  rich  effect  of 
Greek  simplicity  and  chaste  beauty.  The  table,  ex- 
tending from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the  other,  was 
in  the  form  of  an  elongated  horseshoe,  the  host  and 
his  more  intimate  friends,  including  Roy,  being  seated 
at  the  top  of  the  curve  and  the  others  at  each  of  the 
tapering  sides.  In  the  open  space  in  the  centre  formed 
by  the  shoe,  was  a  miniature  lake  of  real  water  on 
which  floated  illuminated  lilies,  the  sides  being  heavily 
banked  with  moss  and  American  beauty  roses,  among 
the  latter  being  concealed  fountains  of  perfumed 
water  that  filled  the  air  with  sweet-scented  spray.  At 
the  head  of  the  lake  was  the  nude  figure  of  a  dancing 
bacchante,  almost  life  size,  executed  in  silver  and 


THE    GAME,  375 

holding  out  a  crystal  champagne  glass  as  if  inviting 
all  present  to  join  her  in  a  toast  to  pleasure  and  love. 
Overhead,  suspended  from  the  lofty  ceiling  and  run- 
ning all  round  the  table,  was  a  string  of  illuminated 
roses,  each  flower  containing  a  tiny  electric  bulb  which 
made  it  transparent  and  enhanced  the  ardor  of  its 
color.  There  were  exactly  thirty-eight  of  them,  the 
number  being  that  of  the  years  the  host  had  lived  and 
they  were  intended  as  a  novel  variation  on  the  classic 
illuminated  candles  that  delight  the  birthday  feasts  of 
children.  The  table  was  richly  decorated  with  elab- 
orate silver  and  glass  services  and  flowers,  while  at 
each  man's  plate  was  a  souvenir  of  the  occasion — in 
each  case  it  being  a  costly  article  from  Tiffany's — a 
scarf  pin  for  this  one,  a  set  of  studs  for  another,  a 
cigarette  holder  for  a  third  and  so  on.  The  souvenirs 
alone  cost  $2,000  and  the  florists'  bill  was  little  below 
that  figure.  "  But  what's  the  odds  ?  "  said  Harvey. 
"  One  is  thirty-eight  only  once  in  a  lifetime." 

Directly  the  guests  had  taken  their  seats  and  the 
dinner  began,  the  soft  strains  of  an  orchestra  came 
floating  from  above,  the  musicians  being  concealed 
from  sight  in  a  kind  of  loft  above  the  dining-room. 
They  were  playing  a  Strauss  waltz. 

"  That's  as  it  should  be,"  approved  Roy.  "  I  love 
to  hear  music  when  it's  far  away,  but  I  don't  like 
to  see  the  facial  contortions  of  the  musicians.  It 
spoils  all  the  illusion." 


376  THE   END    OF 

Every  one  set  to  with  keen  appetite  k^d  there  was 
a  constant  ripple  of  admiring  comment  for  the 
princely  spread  which  their  host  had  set  before  them. 
When  the  soup  and  fish  had  been  removed,  Harvey 
touched  a  button  and  from  the  glass  held  forth  by 
the  silver  Bacchante  gushed  real  champagne  sparkling 
and  foaming.  Filling  his  glass  and  bidding  the  others 
follow  suit,  Harvey  offered  the  toast: 

"  Here's  to  our  wives  and  sweethearts — may  they 
never  meet !  " 

This  was  greeted  by  a  wild  burst  of  applause  all 
round  the  table.  A  good  many  of  them  had  wives 
and  nearly  all  had  sweethearts,  so  the  sentiment  struck 
home.  The  wines  were  now  beginning  to  take  effect 
and  some  one,  in  response,  struck  up  For  he's  a  jolly 
good  fellow,  in  which  everybody  joined,  keeping  time 
by  knocking  the  glasses  with  their  knives. 

"Who's  all  right?"  cried  a  man  at  the  far  end  of 
the  table. 

"  Leonard  Harvey's  all  right !  "  yelled  another,  and 
for  a  moment  or  two  no  one  could  hear  himself  speak 
for  the  noise. 

The  waiters  were  serving  the  choicest  dish  of  the 
menu,  woodcocks  in  cases  Vatel  style,  flanked  by 
braised  cardons  with  Madeira  sauce.  Harvey 
thoughtfully  warned  his  friends  to  eat  sparingly  of 
this  toothsome  morsel,  in  order  to  leave  room  for  the 
terrapin  Newburg  which  was  to  follow. 


THE    GAME  377 

The  waiters  glided  rapidly  and  noiselessly  about, 
serving  dishes,  filling  glasses  with  the  expert  rapidity 
born  of  long  practice,  and  Signor  Martinetti  himself 
gave  a  look  in  from  time  to  time  to  see  that  everything 
was  going  right.  The  guests,  while  busy  masticating 
the  delicacies  put  before  them,  were  busy  speculating 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  surprise  which  their  host  was 
going  to  give  them.  They  knew  well  that  the  dinner, 
luxurious  though  it  be,  was  only  incidental  to  what 
was  to  follow.  Some  opined  that  a  vaudeville  per- 
formance had  been  arranged,  an  incorrigible  joker 
said  he  knew  positively  that  Marcuso,  the  famous 
tenor,  had  been  engaged,  another  predicted  it  would 
be  a  couple  of  high-kicking  skirt  dancers — all  hoped 
secretly  that  it  would  be  something  epice. 

The  general  curiosity  was  soon  satisfied.  When  the 
coffee  and  liquors  were  served  Roy  Marshall  rose, 
amid  cheers,  to  make  a  eulogy  of  their  host. 

"  Speech !  Speech !  "  yelled  a  raw,  beardless  youth 
full  of  enthusiasm  from  a  couple  of  quarts  of  Ruinart. 
The  other  men,  glad  of  any  excuse,  to  give  vent  to 
their  keyed-up  spirits,  all  started  to  yell  at  once  and 
for  a  few  minutes  Roy  was  unable  to  make  himself 
heard.  When  they  quieted  down  he  proceeded. 

He  had  known  Leonard  Harvey,  he  said,  for  nearly 
fourteen  years.  In  all  that  time  he  had  found  him 
not  only  a  man  gifted  with  enormous  talent — talent 
which  would  have  made  him  successful  in  any  walk 


378  THE   END   OF 

of  life — but  he  was  also  a  very  prince  of  good  fellows. 
Whenever  a  man  felt  seedy,  or  was  seized  with  the 
blues,  he  had  merely  to  send  for  Harvey  to  be  in- 
stantly restored  to  a  normal  condition.  That  was  be- 
cause Harvey  allowed  nothing  to  worry  him.  He 
had  discovered  the  secret  of  perpetual  youth.  He 
enjoyed  life,  every  moment  of  it,  and  he  helped  his 
friends  to  enjoy  it.  That  was  why  they  had  all  come 
there  to-night — to  celebrate  the  thirty-eighth  birthday 
of  a  good  comrade,  and  all  should  take  particular 
pleasure  in  drinking  a  toast  to  their  amiable  host.  Ex- 
tending his  glass  he  cried : 

"  Gentlemen,  here's  to  Leonard  Harvey !  May  he 
continue  to  prosper  in  his  amours!" 

A  wild  tumult  hailed  this  academic  effort,  bottles 
being  turned  over  and  glasses  smashed  as  the  now 
completely  befuddled  guests  tried  to  stagger  to  their 
feet  to  drink  the  toast.  Hardly  a  man  was  sober. 
All  talked  at  the  same  time,  and  one  n  vas  with 
difficulty  prevented  from  standing  on  the  table. 

Tapping  for  order,  Harvey,  his  hand  some  face 
flushed  with  wine,  rose  to  reply : 

He  had  called  this  dinner,  he  said,  not  to  celebrate 
his  birthday  or  to  worry  his  friends  into  figuring  how 
many  more  birthdays  he  could  reasonably  be  expected 
to  have.  He  had  summoned  them  here  to  have  a  good 
time  and  he  wanted  them  to  have  one.  He  hoped  they 


THE    GAME  379 

had  enjoyed  their  dinner,  but  he  need  hardly  tell  them 
that  the  piece  de  resistance  was  yet  to  come. 

Those  of  his  listeners  who  were  in  a  condition  to 
understand  what  he  was  saying  leaned  eagerly  for- 
ward. He  continued: 

He  had  reserved  a  little  surprise  until  the  last  when 
he  expected  his  guests  would  be  in  a  frame  of  mind 
to  appreciate  it  better.  They  would  now  proceed  with 
the  entertainment  part  of  the  programme. 

He  resumed  his  seat  amid  frantic  cheers,  while  all 
the  diners  gaped  in  maudlin  fashion,  wondering  what 
would  happen  next.  Harvey  beckoned  the  maitre 
d'hotel  and  whispered  to  him.  Immediately  all  the 
waiters  left  the  room,  Harvey  rising  to  close  the  door 
after  them  and  locking  it.  He  then  returned  to  his 
seat  at  the  table  and  touched  a  button  under  the  cloth. 
Instantly  the  color  of  everything  changed.  Whereas 
a  moment  before  everything  had  been  white,  now  it 
was  a  soft  blue.  At  the  same  instant  the  invisible 
orchestra  began  to  play  a  Hungarian  Czardas.  The 
dreamy,  voluptuous  music  passed  over  the  diners  like 
the  sigh  of  unsatisfied  desire,  vibrating  passionately 
as  it  swelled  into  tempestuous  waves  of  harmony. 
Gradually  increasing  in  volume,  it  suddenly  sprang 
into  furious,  consuming  flame,  the  soul  of  the  melody 
flooding  the  room  and  arousing  even  the  dulled  senses 
of  the  guests. 

Once  more  the  host,  another  Cagliostro,  touched  the 


380  THE    END    OF 

magic  button  and  again  the  colors  of  the  table 
changed.  This  time  the  room  was  suffused  with  red- 
purple,  the  regal  tones  appearing  to  rise  from  the 
very  depths  of  the  miniature  lake.  Suddenly,  just  as 
the  orchestra  was  again  soaring  upward  toward  vo- 
luptuous heights,  the  doors  of  the  anteroom  slid  back, 
disclosing  purple  draperies  from  behind  which 
emerged  six  dancing  girls. 

They  were  costumed  as  the  daughter  of  Herodias 
when  she  danced  before  Herod.  The  head  dress  con- 
sisted of  two  gold  bands  encircling  the  hair,  with 
large  jewelled  pieces  over  the  ears.  Over  each 
breast  was  a  jewelled  shield,  the  two  being  connected 
by  a  pendant  of  pearls.  Round  their  hips  they  wore 
oriental  drapery  of  bright  colors  tightly  drawn  and 
fastened  low  in  front  by  a  large  antique  jewel.  The 
lower  part  of  their  limbs,  visible  under  the  drapery, 
was  bare,  and  on  their  feet  were  sandals,  with  gold 
bands  round  the  ankles. 

The  girls  were  very  young,  the  eldest  not  more 
than  twenty,  and  each  was  beautiful  and  perfect 
enough  in  face  and  body  to  be  a  sculptor's  model. 
Lithe  and  graceful  as  young  fawns,  they  danced  with 
the  nimbleness  and  abandon  of  forest  nymphs,  follow- 
ing the  measure  of  the  music,  advancing  tiptoe  with 
white  arms  outspread  in  languorous  gesture,  their 
sinuous  bodies  undulating  to  the  rhythm.  Round  the 
table  they  went,  three  on  either  side,  almost  touching 


THE    GAME  381 

the  diners,  who  gazed  at  them  stupefied.  Having  com- 
pleted the  circle  they  reunited  at  the  place  where  they 
had  entered  and  there  began  a  new  dance,  a  remark- 
able expression  of  human  energy  and  intoxicating  pas- 
sion. For  a  brief  instant,  they  stood  motionless,  poised 
in  perfect  balance,  then  with  a  leap  of  delirious  joy 
they  commenced  to  gyrate  with  increasing  speed  and 
violence  until,  faint  and  dizzy  from  their  efforts,  they 
almost  fell  from  exhaustion  into  the  laps  of  Harvey's 
delighted  guests. 

The  spell  thus  rudely  broken,  the  men  rushed  from 
their  seats,  each  eager  to  play  the  role  of  chivalrous 
knight  to  the  maiden  in  distress,  and  every  one 
crowded  excitedly  round  the  six  girls,  showing  a 
solicitude  that  was  truly  touching.  But  the  anxiety 
was  groundless.  It  took  more  than  that  to  kill  the 
Six  Houris  of  the  Harem,  as  the  damsels  were  billed 
on  the  boards  of  an  uptown  music  hall. 

"  Give  us  some  fizz,  and  we'll  be  all  right !  "  cried 
one  of  the  girls,  her  coarse,  hoarse  voice  being  in  in- 
congruous contrast  with  the  grace  and  refinement  dis- 
played in  her  dancing.  Now  she  was  herself;  a  mo- 
ment before  she  was  the  artist. 

An  emergency  brigade  rushed  six  quarts  of  cham- 
pagne to  the  corner  of  the  room  where  Harvey,  Roy, 
and  others  were  fanning  the  dancers  with  napkins. 

"  Say !    That's  great !  "  exclaimed  one  girl  as  she 


382  THE  END   OF 

tossed  off  at  one  gulp  a  glass  of  the  sparkling  golden 
beverage.  "  Let's  have  another,  Johnny !  " 

The  Johnny  thus  appealed  to  refilled  her  glass  and 
continued  the  delicate  attention  until  of  the  six  quarts 
there  remained  not  a  drop.  The  girls  now  admitted 
they  felt  better.  In  fact,  they  soon  got  jolly  and  by 
way  of  emphasizing  her  good  spirits,  one  of  them 
allowed  a  man  to  perch  her  on  his  shoulder  and 
scamper  round  the  room  with  her. 

This  set  the  room  in  a  roar  and  was  the  signal  for 
general  demoralization  and  license.  Other  couples 
started  to  gallop  around,  the  men  playing  the  part  ol 
high-spirited  ponies,  their  less  favored  colleagues  run- 
ning after  them  and  trying  to  snatch  away  their  riders, 
every  one  convulsed  with  laughter.  Some  of  the 
guests,  too  weak,  from  too  frequent  libations,  to  take 
part  in  the  more  strenuous  sports,  had  captured  one 
of  the  dancers  and  perched  her  on  the  table  in  front 
of  them,  where  they  plied  her  with  wine  until  she  was 
soon  in  as  maudlin  a  condition  as  themselves. 

Then  some  one  suggested  a  couchee-couchee.  The 
brilliant  idea  was  hailed  with  enthusiasm  and  the  six 
dancers,  already  in  various  stages  of  inebriation,  were 
escorted  to  a  part  of  the  room  which  had  been  cleared 
for  the  dance.  One  of  the  girls,  unable  to  walk,  clung 
lovingly  to  Harvey's  neck  and  finally  she  had  to  be 
carried  to  the  side  of  the  room  and  put  to  sleep  on 
two  chairs.  Then  the  crowd  gathered  round  those  of 


THE  GAME  383 

the  dancers  who  were  still  able  to  stand  on  their  feet. 

The  musicians  aloft  struck  up  the  slow  weird 
strains  of  the  languorous  Turkish  dance.  Harvey  gave 
the  button  another  twist  and  the  table  and  part  of  the 
room  was  bathed  in  a  rich  red  glow,  enveloping  with 
a  ruddy  glare  the  picturesque  figures  of  the  dancers, 
and  the  sensual  faces  of  the  onlookers,  flushed  with 
wine.  The  girls  began  to  dance,  contorting  their 
lithe,  sinuous  bodies  in  measure  with  the  music,  ad- 
vancing, retreating,  with  suggestive  and  provocative 
gestures,  their  jewels  flashing  a  dozen  different  colors 
as  they  twisted  and  turned  under  the  electric  lights. 

Gradually  the  girls  grew  bolder,  introducing  daring 
innovations  in  the  dance  which  elicited  wild  cheers 
from  the  onlookers  until  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
restrain  the  ardor  of  the  men.  Roy  whispered  to 
Harvey : 

"  Aren't  they  going  too  far?  " 

"  Oh,  let  them  be — the  boys  are  enjoying  it." 

A  girl  gave  a  scream.  One  of  the  men  had  spilled  a 
glass  of  wine  down  her  back.  This  broke  up  the 
dance  and  then  pandemonium  reigned.  The  men  lost 
their  heads  and  Harvey  soon  found  he  could  not  check 
them.  Then  some  one  put  out  the  lights.  The  men 
laughed  and  the  girls  gave  smothered  screams,  while 
Harvey  angrily  demanded  that  the  lights  be  turned 
on  again.  He  was  groping  about  trying  to  find  **« 


384  THE    END    OF 

electric  button  when  suddenly  there  came  a  violent 
knocking  at  the  door : 

"  Open  in  the  name  of  the  law ! " 

The  girls  stopped  their  gyrations,  the  music  ceased, 
the  men  turned  pale. 

Whoever  it  was  demanding  admittance,  did  not 
wait  for  the  door  to  be  opened,  for  almost  simultane- 
ously it  was  rudely  broken  open  and  a  police  sergeant 
rushed  in  followed  by  a  score  of  policemen  and  de- 
tectives in  plain  clothes.  Behind  them  was  Signer 
Martinetti,  his  face  ashen. 

"  Pinched !  "  cried  one  of  the  girls. 

"Ain't  it  horrid?  Them  fly  cops  is  too  fresh!" 
said  another,  turning  a  bottle  of  champagne  upside 
down  in  order  to  squeeze  out  the  last  drop. 

"  Every  person  in  this  room  is  under  arrest ! " 
shouted  the  sergeant. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  outrage  ?  "  demanded 
Harvey,  advancing.  "  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care  a  d — n  who  you  are !  I  have  a  war- 
rant. You're  caught  red-handed.  Disorderly  con- 
duct is  the  charge."  Turning  to  a  roundsman,  he  said : 
"  Get  some  clothes  on  those  women  and  hustle  them 
with  the  men  over  to  the  station  house  in  the  patrol 
wagon." 

"What  does  this  mean,  you  wretched  dago?"  de- 
manded Harvey,  furious,  of  the  trembling  proprietor. 

"  Vraiement,  Monsieur  Harvey,  it  is  not  iny  fault," 


THE    GAME  385 

replied  Martinetti  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "  Zey 
come  here  without  a  moment's  warning.  It's  a  new 
Captain  in  the  precinct.  He  vants  to  advertise  him- 
self. Vraiement,  I  am  desolate.  It  vill  ruin  my 
house." 

"  Come,  come,  stop  your  chinnin' ! "  growled  the 
sergeant.  "  Hustle  downstairs,  all  of  you,  and  get 
into  the  patrol  wagon.  You  can  explain  to  the  Cap- 
tain at  the  station  house." 

Roy  was  overwhelmed.  Such  an  eventuality  as 
this  he  could  not  have  foreseen.  Great  beads  of  per- 
spiration burst  from  every  pore -and  he  felt  sick  as 
he  thought  of  what  his  arrest  wo!?l?>  mean— the  whole 
affair  in  the  newspapers,  public  ridicule*  Eunice's 
silent  reproaches,  the  scandal,  a  man  of  his  position 
caught  participating  in  a  bawdy  dinner !  He  graspeci 
Harvey's  arm,  exclaiming: 

"  We're  ruined,  Harvey !  What  can  be  done  ?  I'd 
give  a  million  dollars  rather  than  this  had  happened." 

Harvey  laughed  indifferently. 

"  Don't  worry,  old  man,  it  will  come  out  all  right. 
At  the  worst  we  can  laugh  it  off.  The  most  they  can 
do  to  us  is  to  impose  a  fine.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  try 
and  keep  it  out  of  the  papers.  I  think  we  can." 

But  Harvey  in  his  optimism  did  not  take  into  con- 
sideration the  ubiquitous  newspaper  reporter.  When 
the  patrol  wagons  reached  the  station  house  and 
Leonard  Harvey  and  his  guests  were  lined  up  in  front 


386  THE   END   OF 

of  the  desk,  they  might  have  succeeded  in  concealing 
their  identity  by  giving  false  names,  only  the  drifting 
straw  of  fate  that  influences  destinies  blew  in  their 
direction.  At  the  moment  the  patrol  wagons  drove 
up  with  their  sorry,  bedraggled-looking  cargoes,  a  re- 
porter of  the  Vulture  happened  to  be  in  the  station. 
He  immediately  recognized  Roy  and  when  in  answer 
to  the  Captain's  demand  for  his  name  Roy  answered 
weakly  "  James  Stillman,"  he  at  once  stepped  up  and 
said  loudly: 

"  Hello,  Mr.  Marshall,  how  are  you  ?  I  haven't  seen 
you  since  I  interviewed  you  in  your  office  in  Pitts- 
burg." 

That  spoiled  everything,  but  Harvey  thought  there 
was  still  a  chance.  Taking  the  reporter  aside  and 
showing  him  a  fifty  dollar  bill,  he  whispered: 

"  Don't  you  think  you  could  forget  he  is  Mr.  Mar- 
shall?" 

The  reporter  laughed.  He  understood  they  wanted 
to  bribe  him  and  he  felt  really  sorry  for  their  predica- 
ment. But  he  owed  a  duty  to  his  newspaper,  and, 
what  was  more,  he  resented  the  imputation  that  he 
could  be  bought. 

"  No,  siree — this  is  too  good  a  story  for  my  paper. 
It's  worth  more  than  fifty  dollars  to  the  Vulture." 


THE   GAME  387 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  dinner  created  a  tremendous  hubbub.  The 
Vulture  and  other  sensational  papers  gave 
exaggerated  accounts  of  the  affair,  illus- 
trated with  lurid  pictures  by  artists  with  fertile  imag- 
inations, and  there  were  also  portraits  of  the  principal 
participants  and  grave  editorials,  castigating  the 
officers  of  the  Empire  Steel  Company  for  behavior 
beneath  the  dignity  of  men  holding  lofty  positions  in 
the  commercial  world,  and  drawing  attention  gener- 
ally to  the  demoralizing  influence  of  great  wealth  and 
the  follies  thc.t  of  late  had  characterized  the  doings 
of  the  newly  rich. 

Aside,  however,  from  this  criticism  in  the  public 
press  and  the  ironical  laughter  they  had  to  submit 
to  from  their  friends,  the  consequences,  as  Harvey 
had  predicted,  were  not  serious.  They  were  all  dis- 
charged on  their  appearance  in  court  that  same  morn- 
ing and  in  a  few  days  the  incident  was  forgotten. 

But  there  was  one  who  could  not  laugh  over  the 
dinner  or  forget  it.  That  was  Eunice.  She  had  first 
heard  of  it  through  a  Pittsburg  paper  which  naturally 
"  played  it  up  "  for  all  it  was  worth,  and  later  she 
learned  further  details  from  Mr.  Dexter  and  other 


388  THE   END    OF 

friends  who  called  to  offer  their  sympathy.  When 
she  first  read  the  headlines  "  Pittsburg  Steel  Men  Ar- 
rested," it  never  occurred  to  her  that  Roy  might  be 
one  of  them,  and  when  she  read  his  name,  together 
with  Leonard  Harvey's  and  the  rest,  she  almost 
fainted.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  the  Roy  Mar- 
shall who  had  been  arrested  and  taken  to  the  station 
house  like  a  criminal  could  be  the  same  Roy  Marshall 
who  tor  so  many  years  had  lain  so  close  to  her  heart, 
and  shared  with  her  their  mutual  grief  and  happiness. 
For  months  she  had  realized  that  the  sudden  flood 
of  riches  had  wrecked  both  their  lives.  It  had  made  an 
entirely  different  man  of  Roy  and  a  lonely,  broken- 
hearted woman  of  herself.  He  had  ceased  to  love  her 
-—of  that  she  felt  sure,  and  she  had  tried  to  harden 
her  heart  against  his  growing  indifference  and  to 
forget,  by  devoting  all  her  time  and  attention  to  her 
little  daughter.  But  there  were  times  when  it  was 
impossible  to  prevent  reverting  to  the  past,  when  her 
memory  conjured  up  Roy  as  he  was  when  he  first 
asked  her  to  be  his  wife  and  as  he  was  in  the  happy 
Glendale  days  when  they  had  no  money— only  each 
other's  affection.  Then  her  eyes  would  fill  with  hot, 
blinding  tears,  and  little  Grace  would  ask: 

"  Why  are  you  crying,  mamma  ?  Are  you  un- 
happy ?  " 

What  would  be  the  end?  They  could  not  go  on 
living  this  way,  each  practically  a  stranger  to  the 


THE    GAME  389 

other.  Why  not  accept  the  inevitable  and  separate 
now?  Their  paths  in  life  lay  apart,  that  was  very 
clear,  but  which  of  them  would  say  first  the  word 
that  would  separate  them?  She  could  not,  for  in 
her  heart  she  still  loved  him  in  spite  of  his  neglect, 
in  spite  of  his  indifference,  in  spite  of  his  shameful 
conduct,  in  spite  of  everything.  A  woman  who  loves 
as  she  had  loved,  who  has  given  of  herself  as  she  had, 
can  not  tear  the  love  out  of  her  heart  in  a  day.  After 
all,  she  could  not  forget  that  he  was  the  father  of  her 
dead  baby  and  of  little  Grace. 

Roy  had  returned  home  a  few  days  after  the  famous 
dinner,  but  he  made  no  allusion  to  his  escapade.  They 
sat  facing  each  other  at  table,  each  distrustful  of  the 
other,  glad  of  the  presence  of  the  servants,  which  at 
least  precluded  the  possibility  of  a  scene.  Except  at 
table  they  seldom  met  and  then  they  only  exchanged 
the  most  commonplace-  remarks. 

One  afternoon,  some  time  after  the  dinner  scandal, 
Mrs.  Dexter  dropped  in  to  see  Eunice. 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  I'm  going  to  New  York 
to-morrow  and  I  want  you  to  go  with  me.  You  know 
I  said  I  would  show  you  a  studio  which  has  a  boudoir 
just  the  way  you  want  to  fix  yours.  You  come  with 
me  and  I'll  take  you  to  see  it." 

Eunice's  first  impulse  was  to  say  no.  She  was  in 
no  mood  to  think  about  arranging  her  boudoir.  But 
then,  she  reflected,  the  trip  might  help  her  to  divert 


390  THE   END   OF 

her  thoughts.  She  went  out  little  enough.  The 
change  might  do  her  good.  So  she  said: 

"  Very  well,  I'll  go." 

"  All  right,  dear,  I'll  call  for  you  in  my  carriage 
and  we'll  drive  together  to  the  station.  Be  ready  at 
8.30.  By  the  by,  where's  Mr.  Marshall?" 

"  At  his  club." 

"  Really  ?  "  she  said,  elevating  her  eyebrows,  "  I 
don't  see  how  you  stand  it.  I  couldn't.  I'd  divorce 
Mr.  Dexter  if  he  was  away  half  as  much.  Well,  good- 
by,  dear.  I'll  see  you  to-morrow  morning  at  8.30." 

That  evening  Eunice  dined  alone.  Roy  had  said 
he  would  return  for  dinner,  but  at  seven  o'clock  he 
telephoned  he  would  stay  at  the  club.  So  Eunice  sat 
down  at  her  table  in  solitary  state,  waited  upon  with 
much  ceremony  by  two  gorgeously  attired  servants. 
She  did  not  care  for  all  this  style,  but  Roy  had  in- 
sisted upon  it,  and  she  had  acquiesced. 

After  dinner,  she  went  up  to  the  nursery  to  see 
Grace  and,  finding  the  child  asleep,  she  kissed  her 
and  went  downstairs  into  the  library,  intending  to 
read  a  little  before  going  to  bed.  This  was  how  she 
passed  her  evenings,  alone,  night  after  night.  She 
had  been  there  about  half  an  hour  when  the  butler 
came  up  with  a  card.  She  took  it  and  read: 

"  Mr.  Leonard  Harvey."  Scribbled  in  a  corner  were 
these  words :  "  May  I  see  you  for  a  few  moments  ? 
L.  H." 


THE   GAME  391 

Eunice  thought  it  strange  that  Mr.  Harvey  should 
call  at  this  hour.  He  must  have  seen  Roy  at  the  cluE, 
and  know  that  he  had  not  come  home.  Then  she 
grew  alarmed.  Perhaps  there  had  been  an  accident. 

"  Show  Mr.  Harvey  up  at  once,"  she  said. 

She  waited  with  nervous  dread  and  advanced 
quickly  when  Harvey  entered.  He  was  in  evening 
dress  and  handsome  as  ever.  His  face  was  a  shade 
paler  than  usual  and  his  manner  seemed  nervous.  In 
the  buttonhole  of  his  coat  was  a  fresh  orchid. 

"  You  hardly  expected  to  see  me,"  he  began  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  Hardly,"  she  admitted.  Then  apprehensively,  she 
added:  "I  hope  nothing's  wrong!" 

"  No — nothing,"  he  replied. 

But  his  manner  was  so  strained  and  peculiar  that 
Eunice  was  genuinely  alarmed. 

"  Has  anything  happened  to  Roy?  "  she  said  quicldy. 
"  Don't  keep  me  in  suspense,  please." 

Harvey  sank  uninvited  on  a  luxurious  divan  and 
pulled  nervously  at  his  white  kid  gloves. 

"  Don't  worry,"  he  replied  with  a  cynical  laugh, 
"  your  husband's  all  right.  When  I  left  the  club  he 
was  $1,000  out  in  a  $20  limit  poker  game." 

Eunice  breathed  more  freely.  Then  she  wondered 
what  had  brought  her  visitor.  She  sat  opposite  him, 
saying  nothing,  and  there  followed  a  long  and  embar- 
rassing silence.  Eunice  began  to  feel  uncomfortable. 


392  THE   END  OF 

Without  looking  up  at  him  she  felt  that  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  hers.  Finally  he  broke  the  silence  by  saying 
abruptly : 

"  Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Marshall,  I  begin  to  think 
Roy's  a  good  deal  of  a  fool.  In  fact,  I've  thought 
so  for  some  time." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  demanded,  not  com- 
prehending. 

Harvey  leaned  forward,  his  ardent  eyes  flashing. 

"  He's  a  fool  to  sit  playing  cards  at  the  club  when 
he  has  such  a  wife  as  you  at  home." 

He  drew  back  in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  reading 
lamp  and  watched  her  keenly  to  judge  of  the  effect 
of  his  words.  But  there  was  nothing  in  Eunice's  face 
to  show  that  she  had  fathomed  his  meaning.  Yet  she 
had  understood.  It  was  plain  enough.  This  man,  this 
modern  Judas  in  evening  clothes,  was  trying  to  vilify 
his  friend  behind  his  back,  endeavoring  to  profit  by 
his  absence  to  supplant  him  in  the  affections  of  his 
wife. 

There  was  a  touch  of  irony  in  her  reply  which  did 
not  escape  him  as  she  said : 

"  You  surely  did  not  come  here  to-night  expressly 
to  pay  me  a  commonplace  compliment." 

Harvey  was  puzzled.  He  did  not  quite  know  how 
to  take  her.  Notwithstanding  his  long  and  varied 
experience  with  all  kinds  of  women — and  his  friends 
declared  him  to  be  a  past  master  in  dealing  with 


THE   GAME  393 

the  most  difficult  of  them-— this  quiet  woman  with 
the  tranquil  gray  eyes  and  calm,  aristocratic  manner, 
was  more  baffling  and  elusive  than  any  one  he  had 
ever  encountered.  Yet  the  colder  she  was,  the  more 
difficult  she  made  the  game,  the  more  eager  he  was 
to  win.  Ignoring  the  last  remark,  he  tried  to  arouse 
her  sympathy. 

"  A  man  does  not  know  when  he  is  well  off,"  he 
went  on.  "  Take  my  case  for  example.  If  in  early 
life  I  had  met  and  married  such  a  woman  as  you  I 
am  convinced  I  should  be  to-day  a  happier  and  better 
man  than  I  am.  Do  you  suppose  I  really  take  pleasure 
in  this  reckless,  irresponsible  bachelor  life  I  lead?  Do 
you  suppose  I  care  a  straw  for  the  men,  the  women 
I  associate  with?  No,  I  was  tired  of  it  all  long  ago, 
and  yet  each  year  it  is  the  same  as  ever — the  same  fast 
companions,  the  same  weak  foolish  women,  the  same 
follies,  the  same  regrets!  Don't  you  suppose  that  I 
realize  what  the  love  of  one  good  woman  means — 
such  a  woman,  for  instance,  as  yourself?" 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  Eunice  restrained  her  im- 
patience. She  saw  the  necessity  of  immediately  end- 
ing this  interview  which  placed  her  in  an  extremely 
false  position.  Rising  from  her  seat  and  with  as 
much  self-possession  as  she  was  able  to  command,  she 
said  frigidly: 

"  Really,  Mr.  Harvey,  I  don't  see  why  you  address 


394  THE   END  OF 

yourself  to  me.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  per- 
sonal affairs." 

He  rose  from  the  divan  and  advanced  toward  her, 
his  voice  trembling  with  the  passion  he  ill  concealed. 

"  I  come  to  you,"  he  said,  his  eyes  ardently  seeking 
hers,  "  because  I  cannot  keep  away.  I  had  to  tell 
you  this.  Before  you  came  to  Pittsburg  I  knew  no 
life  other  than  the  one  I  led.  But  when  I  saw  how 
happy  you  and  Roy  were  together  at  Glendale,  even 
in  your  days  of  poverty,  then  for  the  first  time  I  knew 
that  my  own  life  was  a  failure.  All  these  years,  un- 
known to  you,  I  have  worshipped  you  from  afar  as 
the  ideal,  the  woman  with  a  soul.  Gradually  you 
entered  into  all  my  thoughts,  and  then  I  knew  that  I 
loved  you.  But  you  never  suspected  it  and  if  Roy 
had  continued  to  treat  you  as  he  should  treat  a  faith- 
ful woman,  you  would  never  have  heard  it  from  me. 
But  since  he's  had  money  your  husband  is  a  changed 
man — the  wild  life  he  is  leading,  his  neglect  of  you, 
is  the  topic  of  public  gossip  everywhere.  Believe  me, 
I  feel  sorry  for  you.  I  have  read  your  grief  in  your 
beautiful  eyes.  I  come  here  because  I  want  you  to 
let  me  be  your  friend." 

He  extended  his  hand.  Eunice  took  no  notice  of 
it  and  drew  back,  her  face  pale. 

"  Mr.  Harvey,  every  word  you  address  to  me  in 
this  manner  in  the  absence  of  my  husband  is  an  in- 
sult !  I  need  neither  your  sympathy  nor  your  friend- 


THE   GAME  395 

ship.  In  any  case  you  are  a  disloyal  friend,  for  you 
are  treacherous  to  Roy,  who  unwisely  confides  in  you. 
If  my  husband  is  to-day  a  different  man  from  what  he 
used  to  be,  who  is  responsible  but  you?  You  are  the 
one  who  led  him  into  a  life  he  knew  nothing  of — a 
life  he  had  little  taste  for.  And  now  you  have  done 
your  best  to  ruin  him,  you  turn  your  attention  to  his 
wife.  You  are  wasting  your  time,  Mr.  Harvey.  You 
have  made  a  mistake.  I  am  not  the  kind  of  woman 
you  take  me  for.  And  now  please  excuse  me.  Roy 
may  be  home  any  minute  and  I  don't  suppose,"  she 
added  with  contempt,  "  that  you  would  care  to  have 
him  find  you  here !  " 

She  turned  her  back  on  him,  hoping  that  he  would 
go,  but  he  still  stood  there,  staring  at  her. 

"  I  hardly  think  he  would  be  jealous,"  he  said  with 
a  cynical  smile.  "  He's  too  much  infatuated  else- 
where. You've  been  blind  all  this  time.  He's  false 
to  you." 

In  an  instant  Eunice  was  confronting  him,  her 
hands  clenched,  her  eye's  flashing: 

"How  dare  you?  How  dare  you?"  she  cried. 
"  My  husband  may  prefer  his  club  to  his  home,  his 
business  affairs  may  prevent  him  from  giving  me  as 
much  of  his  company  as  he  did  formerly,  but  he  is 
too  much  of  a  man  to  be  deliberately  false  to  me. 
When  you  insinuate  that  he  is  deceiving  me  with  an- 
other woman  you  lie.  It  is  the  act  of  a  coward.  I 


396  THE   END   OF 

do  not  believe  it !  I  do  not  believe  it !  And  now  go  1 
Go!  If  you  don't  go  I'll  call  the  servants  and  have 
them  put  you  out  1 " 

She  sank  on  a  sofa,  exhausted  by  the  vehemence 
of  her  outburst,  her  bosom  heaving  with  indignation 
and  outraged  dignity.  Harvey  watched  her  for  a 
moment,  then  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  he  picked 
up  his  gloves  and  slowly  left  the  room. 

Long  after  he  was  gone  Eunice  still  sat  there,  weep- 
ing silently,  her  form  bent  as  if  under  the  weight  of 
a  crushing  blow. 

"Could  it  be  true?"  she  murmured  between  her 
sobs ;  "  was  it  possible  that  a  still  greater  grief  awaited 
her?  Was  there  another  woman? " 


"  If  you  don't  go  I'll  have  the  servants  put  you  outl  " 


Page  396 


THE   GAME  397 


CHAPTER  VI 

REMBRANDT  HALL  was  always  a  busy  place 
no  matter  at  what  hour  of  the  day  or  night. 
A  string  of  private  carriages,  hansoms  or 
automobiles  was  almost  constantly  stationed  before 
the  door,  the  drivers  patiently  awaiting  their  owners 
— society  women  who  had  come  for  twenty-minute  sit- 
tings to  this  or  that  portraitist,  newspaper  men  inter- 
viewing an  operatic  celebrity,  a  publisher  negotiating 
for  a  new  novel  with  a  fashionable  author,  a  physician 
making  a  professional  call.  Only  those  visitors  who 
drove  up  in  carriages  received  consideration  from  the 
haughty  uniformed  attendant  on  service;  all  others 
were  eyed  with  suspicion  and  frequently  perempto- 
rily halted — often  not  without  reason,  for  usually  they 
proved  to  be  models  seeking  employment,  ingenious 
process  servers,  audacious  book  canvassers  or  dunning 
tradesmen. 

It  was  a  few  minutes  after  10  A.  M.,  an  hour  when, 
according  to  the  hall  boy's  notions  of  social  propriety, 
all  well-bred  people  should  still  be  abed,  when  a  smart 
equipage  drew  up  at  the  curb  and  the  footman,  jump- 
ing down,  assisted  two  ladies  to  alight.  One  was  Mrs 
Dexter  and  the  other  Eunice. 


398  THE  END   OF 

"Is  Miss  Gordon  in?"  demanded  Mrs.  Dexter  of 
the  attendant,  who,  impressed  with  the  quality  of  the 
callers,  touched  his  hat  respectfully. 

"  No,  m'm,  she's  out  horseback  riding.  She  won't 
be  back  till  one  o'clock." 

"  How  provoking,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dexter,  turning 
to  Eunice.  "  We  must  catch  the  three  o'clock  back 
home,  and  I  did  so  want  you  to  see  that  boudoir." 

The  two  women  had  been  in  New  York  since  the  day 
before,  and  having  completed  their  shopping,  Mrs. 
Dexter  had  insisted  on  this  visit  to  the  Gordon  studio. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Eunice,  just  as  glad  to  get  out 
of  it,  "  we'll  come  some  other  time  that  we  are  in  New 
York." 

But  Mrs.  Dexter  was  not  to  be  put  off  so  easily. 
Once  her  mind  was  set  on  anything  she  persisted  until 
she  got  what  she  wanted.  To  the  attendant  she  said : 

"  I  told  Miss  Gordon  I  was  coming  to-day  to  look 
at  her  studio.  She  expects  us." 

Scenting  a  possible  tip,  the  boy  replied  politely : 

*'  Her  man  Achmet  is  upstairs.  If  you  go  up,  m'm, 
no  doubt  he  will  show  you  the  place." 

Mrs.  Dexter  dragged  the  unwilling  Eunice  after  her 
and  shooting  up  in  the  elevator,  they  soon  found  them- 
selves on  the  aesthetically  draped  landing  facing  Cleo 
Gordon's  door. 

The  dark-skinned  Achmet,  his  eyes  rolling,  his  white 
.teeth  glistening,  opened  the  door  in  answer  to  the  touch 


THE    GAME  399 

on  the  electric  button.  He  made  a  profound  salaam 
on  seeing  the  ladies,  his  hands  folded  across  his  chest, 
his  turbaned  head  almost  knocking  the  floor. 

He  knew  Mrs.  Dexter  by  sight.  His  mistress  had 
not  expected  her  so  soon  and  was  taking  exercise  in 
the  park,  but  if  the  ladies  would  do  him  the  honor  to 
step  in  he  was  sure  Mme.  Gordon  would  be  much 
pleased. 

Thus  invited  they  passed  in.  Eunice  was  delighted 
with  everything.  Accustomed  as  she  was  at  Altonia 
to  be  surrounded  by  every  luxury  that  money  could 
buy,  she  felt  there  was  something  more  here  than  a 
mere  lavish  expenditure  of  dollars.  It  needed  the  ex- 
pert hand  of  the  connoisseur  to  create  these  artistic 
effects,  to  produce  the  beauty  and  harmony  of  these 
color  schemes.  One  recognized  at  once  that  it  was  not 
a  mere  jumble  of  exotic  curios,  but  that  each  object 
had  its  peculiar  value  and  association,  and  had  been 
selected  and  cherished  by  its  owner  because  of  some 
special  appeal  it  had  made  to  her  artistic  sense.  The 
air  was  heavy  .with  subtle  and  unfamiliar  perfumes; 
there  was  a  suggestion  of  voluptuousness  in  every 
corner.  One  felt  all  around  the  sensuous  attraction  to 
the  eye. 

"Isn't  it  artistic?"  said  Mrs.  Dexter. 

"  Beautiful !  "  murmured  Eunice.  Then  pointing  to 
the  stairway  that  led  to  the  balcony  she  asked :  "  Where 
do  those  stairs  go  to?" 


400  THE   END    OF 

"  The  boudoir  is  up  there.    Come  with  me." 

In  spite  of  her  forty  years,  Mrs.  Dexter  ran  nimbly 
up  the  stairs,  followed  more  slowly  by  Eunice,  who 
lingered  to  look  at  each  object  as  she  went  along,  the 
fine  tapestries,  the  oil  paintings,  the  rare  objets  d'art, 
while  Achmet  stood  watching  her,  rolling  his  almond- 
shaped  eyes. 

"  Come,  Eunice ! "  cried  Mrs.  Dexter  from  above. 
"  This  is  the  boudoir.  Isn't  it  exquisite  ?  " 

Eunice  entered  a  room  daintily  draped  in  pink  rose, 
the  rest  of  the  decorations  being  in  white  and  gold, 
with  hand-painted  panels  showing  Cupid  pursuing 
Psyche.  On  the  ceiling  was  a  magnificent  allegorical 
painting  depicting  the  birth  of  Venus.  The  room  was 
elegantly  furnished  with  every  luxury  dear  to  the  fem- 
inine heart.  The  Louis  XV  furniture  and  carpets  were 
in  keeping  with  the  general  color  effects  and  on  a  large 
dresser  with  an  immense  mirror  shone  a  toilette  set  of 
solid  gold. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  it? "  ejaculated 
Mrs.  Dexter  enthusiastically. 

"  No,  it  is  really  beautiful,"  rejoined  Eunice,  passing 
here  and  there,  inspecting  everything. 

Mrs.  Dexter  was  at  one  end  of  the  room  going  into 
raptures  over  a  beautiful  ormolu  writing  desk  when 
suddenly  Eunice  gave  a  cry.  Looking  quickly  up,  she 
saw  Eunice  staggering  as  if  about  to  fall.  She  rushed 
to  her,  alarmed. 


THE    GAME  401 

"  What  is  it,  dear?    Are  you  ill?  " 

"  No — only  a  little  faint,  that's  all !  I've  not  been 
feeling  well  lately.  If  you  could  get  me  a  glass  of 
water,  I  shall  be  all  right." 

"  Certainly,  dear,  certainly.  I'll  go  and  get  some  at 
once.  Just  sit  quiet  till  I  come  back." 

When  she  had  left  the  room  Eunice  took  from  her 
bosom  an  object  which  she  had  hastily  concealed,  and 
which  she  had  found  on  the  dresser.  It  was  a  pen 
sketch  of  Roy  Marshall,  and  under  it  was  written: 

"  To  lovely  Cleo  Gordon — the  most  fascinating 
woman  in  the  world — the  everlasting  homage  of  Roy 
Marshall." 

She  had  come  across  it  by  accident  while  looking  at 
the  many  curios  and  beautiful  articles  de  luxe  dis- 
played on  the  dressing-table.  No  one  could  possibly 
mistake  it  for  any  one  but  Roy.  The  portrait  was  a 
speaking  one. 

"  So  Mr.  Harvey  was  right,  after  all,"  she  mur- 
mured to  herself  when  she  had  recovered  from  her 
first  surprise.  "  It  is  true  then  that  there  is  another 
woman.  This  is  the  woman." 

A  lump  rose  in  her  throat,  the  blood  seemed  to  freeze 
in  her  veins.  She  was  surprised  that  she  did  not  really 
faint  or  cry  out.  Her  asking  for  water  was  merely 
a  subterfuge  to  get  Mrs.  Dexter  out  of  the  way  until 
she  had  time  to  think  what  to  do.  Her  first  impulse 
was  to  tear  up  the  portrait  and  to  scatter  the  pieces 


402  THE   END    OF 

over  the  floor  so  this  woman  might  understand  it  was 
the  work  of  an  outraged  wife.  Then  she  thought  she 
would  take  the  portrait  away  with  her  so  as  to  be 
able  to  confront  Roy  with  it.  He  could  not  deny  such 
overwhelming  proof  as  that.  But  as  she  grew  calmer, 
she  became  more  collected  and  more  sensible.  She 
asked  herself  wearily  what  was  the  use.  They  did 
those  things  only  in  books  and  on  the  stage.  In  real 
life  people  were  more  practical.  Heroics  would  do 
no  good.  If  she  confronted  Roy  and  charged  him 
with  being  false  to  her,  would  that  make  him  love 
her  again  if  all  love  for  her  were  dead  in  his  heart? 
No,  their  love  was  buried  forever,  without  hope  of 
resurrection,  that  was  very  certain.  She  could  never 
win  him  back.  Things  had  gone  too  far.  The  breach 
was  irreparable.  Henceforth  she  must  live  her  life 
alone,  and  now,  for  the  first  time,  her  trembling  lips 
gave  form  to  the  dread  word  which  for  weeks  had  been 
hovering  in  her  thoughts — divorce!  That  was  the 
only  way.  There  could  be  no  compromise  in  a  rela- 
tion so  intimate  and  sacred.  She  owed  it  to  her  own 
self-respect.  How  long  the  intimacy  with  this  artist 
had  been  going  on  she  did  not  know,  but  Roy  himself 
had  been  steadily  drifting  away  from  her  ever  since 
the  money  came.  While  he  was  engaged  in  fighting 
the  battle  of  life  she  had  been  a  good  enough  wife 
for  him,  he  had  been  glad  to  have  her  share  with  him 
all  his  trials,  his  disappointments,  sorrows,  but  now 


THE    GAME  403 

he  had  conquered,  now  he  was  at  the  top  of  the  lad- 
der flushed  with  success,  she  was  not  good  enough. 
Another  woman  more  closely  in  touch  with  the  gayer 
side  of  life,  was  a  more  congenial  companion.  No, 
she  would  leave  the  portrait  where  it  belonged.  It 
was  not  hers.  It  was  the  property  of  the  other  woman. 
She  herself  had  no  interest  in  it. 

Hearing  Mrs.  Dexter's  footsteps  returning,  she 
quickly  replaced  the  sketch  on  the  dresser,  and  re- 
sumed her  seat  on  the  chair.  An  instant  later  Mrs. 
Dexter  entered  with  the  glass  of  water. 

"  Well,  dear,"  she  said  solicitously,  "  how  do  you 
feel  now  ? " 

"  I'm  much  better,"  said  Eunice,  rising.  "  It  was 
a  little  dizziness,  that's  all.  Hadn't  we  better  go? 
The  air  will  do  me  good." 

"  Certainly,  dear,  certainly.    We'll  go  right  home." 

They  started  back  to  Pittsburg  that  same  afternoon. 
All  the  way  in  the  train  Mrs.  Dexter  chattered  about 
the  shopping  they  had  done  and  the  social  activities 
which  awaited  her  on  arrival  home.  She  did  all  the 
talking,  Eunice  replying  only  in  monosyllables,  and 
although  Mrs.  Dexter  noticed  that  her  companion 
was  quieter  and  more  preoccupied  than  usual,  she 
attributed  it  to  the  fatigue  of  the  trip.  She  had  not 
the  slightest  suspicion  that  she  was  participating  in 
a  life  t^.gedv  or  that  their  innocent  visit  to  the  studio 


404  THE   END   OF 

that  morning  was  likely  to  be  followed  by  the  gravest 
consequences. 

It  was  only  when  she  reached  Altonia  and  could 
seclude  herself  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  apartments 
that  Eunice  was  able  to  gauge  the  extent  of  the  mis- 
fortune which  had  befallen  her.  At  first  when  she 
locked  the  door  of  her  room  and  felt  herself  secure 
from  inquisitive  eyes,  she  broke  down  completely, 
bursting  into  a  fit  of  passionate  weeping,  moaning 
and  crying  as  though  her  heart  were  broken,  her 
entire  body  shaken  by  convulsive  sobs.  Then,  as  she 
became  calmer,  she  considered  how  she  could  cope 
with  this  new  and  serious  situation.  She  could  no 
longer  weakly  allow  things  to  drift  as  they  had  done. 

Her  own  dignity  and  the  good  name  of  her  daughter 
demanded  that  she  be  set  right  before  the  world. 
What  she  had  dreaded  but  had  hoped  to  avert  had 
happened.  Roy  was  not  only  cold,  indifferent,  neglect- 
ful. He  was  unfaithful  to  her.  He  loved  another 
woman.  Wilfully,  deliberately  he  had  severed  the  last 
link  that  bound  them  together.  Their  courtship,  their 
many  years  of  happy  married  life,  the  sorrows  they 
had  shared  together — all  that  was  now  but  a  cherished 
memory.  Too  proud  to  accept  a  division,  henceforth, 
she  said  to  herself,  they  could  be  nothing  to  each  other. 
To  continue  to  live  together  under  these  conditions 
was  repugnant  to  a  woman  of  her  acute  sensibility. 
Therefore  only  divorce  remained.  Certainly  she 


THE   GAME  405 

would  insist  upon  divorce.  No  suggestion  of  a  sep- 
aration, no  offer  of  a  handsome  settlement  should 
tempt  her  to  waver  in  her  decision  to  seek  complete 
liberty  and  vindication  in  the  courts  from  a  man  who 
cast  her  aside  simply  because  he  had  grown  tired  of 
her.  She  did  not  want  his  charity  and  would  accept 
nothing  from  him.  The  money  he  had  already  settled 
upon  her  would  suffice  to  live  on  modestly  and  to  edu- 
cate her  daughter.  They  would  go  away  to  some 
other  State  and  living  amid  new  scenes,  try  to  forget. 
Blinding  tears  of  self-pity  filled  her  eyes  and  rolled 
down  her  wan  cheeks  as  she  rebelled  against  the  cruel 
injustice  of  it.  She  remembered  Roy's  ardent  words 
that  afternoon  in  the  schoolhouse  in  Boston  when  he 
clasped  her  to  his  heart  vowing  to  cherish  and  love 
her  "  for  richer  for  poorer."  How  had  he  kept  that 
vow?  She  thought  how  she  had  eagerly  watched  his 
advancement  in  his  career,  how  she  had  prayed  for 
his  success,  how  she  used  to  look  forward  to  the  even- 
ings when,  tired  after  the  long  day's  work,  he  would 
hurry  home  to  her  and  baby.  What  had  she  done  to 
forfeit  that  happiness?  Was  it  credible  that  a  man 
would  heartlessly  throw  aside  a  companion  who  had 
been  faithful  to  him  for  fifteen  long  years?  Perhaps 
he  wished  her  dead  and  would  not  care  if  he  never 
saw  her  again.  A  fresh  paroxysm  of  weeping  fol- 
lowed this  suggestion,  a  feeling  of  utter  hopelessness 
and  desolation  came  over  her,  and,  bent  low  in  the 


406  THE   END    OF 

chair,  her  form  was  bowed  and  crushed  like  that  of 
one  who  had  lost  everything  in  life  worth  living  for. 
If  Roy  saw  her  thus,  she  thought,  with  her  red  eyes 
and  tear-stained  face,  he  would  feel  sorry  for  her  and 
perhaps  afcandon  the  life  he  was  leading  and  come  back 
to  her.  Then  her  eyes  fell  upon  a  portrait  of  her  child. 
She  picked  it  up  and  raised  it  to  her  lips. 

"  Thank  God,"  she  murmured,  "  my  child  still 
remains  to  me.  If  my  husband  deserts  me  I  still  have 
my  little  girl.  Henceforth  my  life  shall  be  devoted 
to  making  her  grow  up  a  good  woman ! " 

The  first  thing  to  be  done  was  to  come  to  a  definite 
understanding  with  Roy.  However  unpleasant  such 
an  interview  with  her  husband  would  be,  there  must 
be  no  further  delay  in  acquainting  him  with  her  irrev- 
ocable decision  to  seek  a  divorce.  She  was  willing 
to  spare  him  all  the  inconvenience  and  annoyance  pos- 
sible, but  absolute  freedom  must  be  restored  to  her. 
Not  that  she  had  the  slightest  wish  to  ever  marry 
again.  Such  an  idea  never  entered  her  mind,  and  if  it 
had,  would  have  been  dismissed  instantly  as  absurd. 
But  she  insisted  on  the  legal  bonds  between  them  being 
completely  severed  and  only  divorce  could  do  that. 
Otherwise,  there  need  be  no  useless  reproaches,  no 
violent  or  hysterical  scenes,  no  bitter  recriminations. 
They  had  ceased  to  care  for  each  other — that  was  all. 
Each  would  go  his  and  her  different  way. 

The  first  opportunity  came  about  a  week  after  her 


THE    GAME  407 

discovery  of  the  sketch  in  the  Gordon  studio.  Roy 
was  trying  to  live  down  the  unpleasant  notoriety  of 
the  Harvey  dinner  by  paying  more  attention  to  busi- 
ness and  avoiding  temporarily,  at  least,  his  usual 
haunts  and  companions.  Mr.  Armstrong  had  plainly 
shown  his  annoyance.  Such  a  scandal,  he  said,  was 
most  injurious  to  the  interests  of  the  Steel  Company, 
weakening  as  it  did  the  confidence  of  the  investing 
public,  and  he  hoped  that  there  would  be  no  repetition 
of  it.  This  reprimand  had  the  salutary  effect  of  sub- 
duing the  vice-president  for  a  time,  and  as  a  conse- 
quence he  spent  more  time  at  home. 

One  evening  after  a  dinner  passed  in  the  customary 
constrained  and  painfully  silent  manner,  Roy  went 
into  the  library  to  read  the  evening  papers.  Eunice 
felt  that  the  time  had  come  to  speak.  Her  heart  beat- 
ing wildly,  her  face  pale,  biting  her  lips  to  control  her 
nerves  but  outwardly  calm  and  self-possessed,  she 
followed  him  there.  It  was  so  unusual  for  her  to  do 
anything  of  the  kind  that  Roy  looked  up  at  her  in 
amazement. 

"  Roy,"  she  faltered,  "  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  Talk  to  me — certainly.  Sit  down,"  he  stammered, 
not  knowing  exactly  what  to  say,  as  if  she  were  a 
neighbor  making  an  unceremonious  call.  Yet  he 
began  to  feel  uncomfortable.  Instinct  told  him,  as 
the  mariner  at  sea,  that  there  were  squalls  ahead. 

"  Roy,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice  and  sinking  into  a 


408  THE   END    OF 

chair  sonic  little  distance  from  him.  "  This  cannot 
go  on." 

"  What  cannot  go  on  ?  "  he  said  uneasily. 

"  We  cannot  go  on  living  together  in  this  way. 
Something  must  be  done." 

He  understood.  His  face  flushed  and  he  looked 
annoyed,  as  if  the  subject  were  one  which  he  would 
prefer  to  let  rest. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded.  "I  don't 
follow  you." 

"  Must  I  speak  more  plainly?  "  she  said,  raising  her 
voice  slightly.  "  I  mean  that  there  is  no  longer  any 
reason  why  we  should  continue  to  live  together.  I 
mean  that  since  you  have  ceased  to  care  for  me,  my 
continued  presence  under  this  roof  is  only  an  addi- 
tional indignity  to  those  to  which  I  am  subjected  daily. 
You  cannot  deny  that  your  feelings  toward  me  have 
changed  entirely.  Your  every  action  shows  it.  My 
own  heart  convinced  me  of  it  long  ago.  I  have  no 
reproaches  to  make  for  your  indifference,  your  neglect. 
You  no  longer  love  me — you  have  shown  it  very 
plainly.  You  have  been  quite  frank  about  it;  there 
has  been  no  concealment,  no  misunderstanding.  I, 
for  my  part,  will  be  equally  frank.  I  can  no  longer 
respect  you.  I  cannot  go  on  living  with  you." 

He  listened  with  growing  impatience,  his  face  flush- 
ing and  growing  pale  in  turns  as  he  puffed  nervously 
<  £  his  cigar.  When  she  paused  he  blurted  out : 


THE    GAME  409 

"  Yes,  we  might  as  well  have  it  out  now  as  any  other 
time.  If  you  had  not  brought  the  question  up,  I  should 
have  done  so  to-morrow  or  the  next  day.  Frankly, 
Eunice,  I  am  unhappy  with  you,  and  the  sooner  we 
part  the  better.  We  may  as  well  be  candid  with  each 
other." 

The  tears  welled  up  in  her  eyes  at  this  brutal  speech, 
in  spite  of  her  efforts  to  retain  control  of  herself. 

"  Unhappy  with  me !  "  she  said  gently.  "  Why  are 
you  unhappy  with  me  ?  " 

He  tossed  the  newspaper  aside  and  rose  to  his  feet 
defiantly : 

"  Because  you  persistently  interfere  with  my  way 
of  living.  Don't  imagine  that  all  the  wrongs  are  on 
my  side.  We  don't  get  along  as  well  as  we  used  to 
because  you  are  unreasonable.  You  don't  like  my 
friends,  you  resent  my  being  away  from  home.  You 
think  you're  badly  treated  and  pose  as  a  martyr.  Do 
you  suppose  a  man  likes  to  come  home  and  get  noth- 
ing but  cold  looks  and  chilly  receptions  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  in  silence,  trying  to 
read  his  heart,  and  there  was  more  sorrow  than  anger 
in  her  voice  as  she  replied : 

"  Did  you  always  complain  of  cold  looks  and  chilly 
receptions,  Roy  ?  " 

He  said  nothing,  maintaining  a  surly  silence.  She 
advanced  nearer  to  him,  her  sensitive  mouth  trem- 
bling at  the  corners.  For  a  moment  her  pride  strug- 


4io  THE   END    OF 

gled  with  her  outraged  dignity  as  a  wife.  She  longed 
to  throw  her  arms  round  his  neck  and  plead  with  him. 
After  all,  she  thought  to  herself,  why  not  make  one 
last  appeal?  Perhaps  she  might  yet  have  some  influ- 
ence over  him. 

"  Roy,"  she  said,  wistfully,  with  a  note  of  infinite 
pathos  in  her  voice,  "  don't  let  us  be  bad  friends,  let 
us  stop  and  consider  well  before  we  speak  the  word 
that  will  wreck  both  our  lives.  Have  you  entirely  for- 
gotten how  happy  we  were  in  the  Glendale  days  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  peevishly: 

"  You  always  talk  of  Glendale !  In  those  days  we 
did  not  live.  We  merely  existed.  If  you  were  sensible 
you  would  understand  that  when  a  man  has  made  such 
a  success  as  I  have  he  likes  to  enjoy  his  money,  and 
there  are  places  more  exhilarating  than  the  family 
circle.  But  you've  never  been  able  to  understand  it, 
and  that's  why  we  are  always  at  loggerheads." 

"  I  only  understand,"  rejoined  Eunice,  with  quiet 
dignity,  "  that  the  woman  who  was  good  enough  for 
you  in  your  years  of  poverty,  is  no  longer  the  com- 
panion you  want  in  your  hour  of  success.  I  can  blame 
myself  for  nothing.  In  all  these  years  I've  always 
done  my  duty  to  you  as  a  wife.  I  humbled  myself 
just  now  in  making  to  you  a  last  appeal.  You  refuse 
to  listen.  You  are  willing  that  we  should  part.  So 
be  it.  I  don't  blame  you.  I  say  nothing.  Only  I  want 
to  be  freed  from  you  without  further  delay." 


THE    GAME  411 

"  What  do  you  mean,  what  do  you  propose,  a  sep- 
aration ?  "  he  asked  quickly,  his  eye  brightening. 

"  No,"  said  Eunice  calmly,  "divorce!" 

"  Divorce  ? "  he  echoed,  "  you  must  be  insane. 
Divorce  ?  Think  of  the  publicity — the  scandal !  " 

"  That  is  not  my  fault,"  she  said  quietly.  "  If  you 
have  rights  I  have  rights  too.  I  shall  insist  upon 
divorce." 

He  laughed  carelessly. 

"  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  You 
cannot  get  a  divorce  without  cause.  There  is  no 
cause." 

She  looked  at  him  unflinchingly. 

"You  are  mistaken,"  she  said.  "There  are  two 
causes,  but  one  will  be  enough." 

He  gave  her  a  quick,  searching  look,  as  though  try- 
ing to  read  her  mind. 

"  Nonsense,  divorce  is  impossible.  The  notoriety 
will  hurt  me.  I  will  agree  to  a  separation  and  I  will 
give  you  a  million." 

Her  eyes  had  an  expression  in  them  that  made  his 
wince. 

"  A  million !  "  she  cried,  contemptuously,  "  ah — 
you  think  that  with  money  you  can  do  anything,  right 
any  wrong,  stifle  all  qualms  of  conscience!  I  do  not 
want  your  money.  I  refuse  to  take  it,  absolutely! 
I  should  consider  myself  dishonored  if  I  touched  a 
single  cent.  The  sum  you  settled  on  me  in  the  days 


412  THE   END    OF 

when  you  still  loved  me — yes — that  I  will  keep.  It 
will  be  enough  to  live  on  and  to  educate  my  child. 
Your  money,  Roy,  has  been  your  ruin.  It  has  made 
you  selfish,  heartless,  cruel,  unscrupulous.  You  were 
a  good  man,  a  good  husband,  a  good  father  before 
your  fortune  spoiled  you.  Riches  are  sometimes  a 
curse.  They  have  proved  so  in  your  case.  I  want 
none  of  your  money.  I  insist  only  on  my  complete 
freedom." 

Roy  quailed  beneath  her  scornful  indignation. 
Then  his  temper  getting  the  upper  hand,  he  strode 
angrily  up  and  down  the  room.  Suddenly  turning, 
he  brought  his  fist  violently  down  on  the  table  and 
cried : 

"  What's  the  use  of  wasting  time  talking  all  this 
infernal  nonsense?  Am  I  a  boy  to  be  lectured  at  by 
an  hysterical  woman  ?  These  scenes  annoy  me  exceed- 
ingly and  I  won't  put  up  with  them.  If  it  is  your  wish 
to  drive  me  altogether  from  the  house,  you  are  suc- 
ceeding admirably.  A  separation  if  you  will,  but  a 
divorce  is  out  of  the  question.  I  will  never  consent !  " 

She  stood  confronting  him,  her  pale  quivering  face 
as  determined  and  unyielding  as  his  own.  It  was 
almost  impossible  to  believe  that  this  man  and  this 
woman,  now  facing  each  other  as  enemies,  had  once 
been  everything  in  the  world  to  each  other. 

"  You  must  consent,"  she  retorted.     "  Don't  drive 


THE   GAME  41 3 

me  to  extreme  measures.  The  law  frees  the  woman 
who  is  deceived  by  her  husband." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  almost  shouted.  "  You 
talk  at  random." 

"  I  have  evidence." 

"What  evidence?" 

"The  evidence  of  the  Rembrandt  studio — I  need 
go  no  further." 

Roy  staggered  back  thunderstruck.  For  a  moment 
he  was  unable  to  speak  from  sheer  astonishment.  He 
had  never  dreamed  that  his  wife  was  even  aware  of 
his  acquaintance  with  Cleo  Gordon. 

"Don't  think,"  she  went  on,  "that  I'm  going  to 
make  you  any  further  reproaches.  The  discovery 
that  my  husband  was  false  as  well  as  a  deserter  added 
nothing  to  my  misery.  My  heart  could  not  break 
twice." 

"You  do  me  an  injustice!"  he  cried.  "There  is 
no  ground  for  what  you  infer." 

"  That  will  be  for  a  jury  to  decide,"  she  answered 
coldly.  "  But  I  have  no  wish  to  cause  you  unneces- 
sary annoyance.  A  divorce  on  the  ground  of  deser- 
tion is  all  I  ask." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  surlily.  "  You  can  have  your 
own  way.  Arrange  matters  with  your  lawyers.  I 
will  not  attempt  to  defend  the  suit." 

She  turned  to  go  and  he  made  no  attempt  to  stop 
her. 


4H  THE    END    OF 

She  realized  this  might  be  the  last  time  they  would 
be  together  and  a  choking  sensation  seized  her  throat. 
She  lingered  a  moment,  half  hoping  that  he  might 
yet  make  some  move,  betray  some  sign  that  he  felt 
regret  for  the  tragedy  that  was  parting  them,  but  he 
picked  up  his  newspaper  unconcernedly  and  went  on 
reading.  Gulping  down  a  sob,  she  left  the  room. 


THE   GAME  415 


CHAPTER  VII 

NOTHING,  except  perhaps  it  be  the  passion 
for  ostentatious  display  or  greed  for  a  suc- 
culent dinner,  is  dearer  to  the  heart  of  our 
moneyed  plutocracy  than  a  new  and  sensational  bit 
of  scandal.  To  the  members  of  the  rich  idle  class, 
the  wrecking  of  time-honored  reputations,  the  be- 
smirching of  names  once  spotless,  is  the  very  breath 
of  life.  When,  as  sometimes  happens,  the  social  muck 
rake  is  nonproductive  and  the  stimulant  furnished 
by  its  highly  flavored  details  is  lacking,  one  is  imme- 
diately made  aware  that  something  is  wrong.  Society 
is  bored.  The  conversations  in  polite  circles  languish, 
the  fashionables  of  both  sexes  have  difficulty  in 
stifling  their  yawns,  everyone  agrees  that  the  season  is 
particularly  dull. 

But  Pittsburgh  400  sat  up  with  an  electric  start 
when  it  first  heard  of  the  Marshall  divorce  suit,  and 
for  a  few  days  it  furnished  spicy  material  for  the  social 
tittle-tattle  of  the  town.  Mrs.  Dexter,  of  course,  was 
the  prolific  source  to  which  everyone  hurried  to  learn 
all  about  the  developments  in  the  Marshall  house- 
hold, and  she  gave  them  all  they  wanted  to  hear. 
Eunice,  in  her  trouble,  had  naturally  made  a  confi- 


4i 6  THE    END    OF 

dante  of  her  most  intimate  woman  friend,  telling  her 
frankly  exactly  how  matters  stood  between  herself 
and  her  husband,  but  making  no  mention  of  the  dis- 
covery in  the  Rembrandt  studio  which  had  precipitated 
the  crisis.  The  announcement  that  she  intended  to 
divorce  Roy  did  not  really  surprise  Mrs.  Dexter  any 
more  than  it  did  the  rest  of  Pittsburg.  It  came  as  a 
shock  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Marshall  had  actually  begun 
a  suit,  although  everyone  has  wondered  for  a  long 
time  why  she  had  not  taken  action  before.  Roy's 
escapades,  his  wild  manner  of  living,  his  neglect  of 
his  wife,  had  long  been  the  subject  of  whispered 
comments  in  clubs  and  drawing  rooms,  and  as  usual 
in  such  an  unequal  conflict,  sympathy  had  gone  out 
to  the  wife,  for  with  all  its  selfishness  and  worldliness, 
society  sometimes  shows  it  has  a  heart. 

But  all  were  mistaken  in  their  estimate  of  this 
devoted  wife  who  seemed  willing  to  put  up  with  every 
humiliation,  every  indignity,  without  protest  or  com- 
plaint. Like  other  wives  who  are  compelled  by  force 
of  circumstances  to  submit  to  the  tyranny  and  treach- 
ery of  their  legal  lords,  it  was  thought  she  would 
endure  it  and  say  nothing.  She  was  not  given  credit 
for  so  much  spirit.  The  public  press,  particularly,  took 
her  part,  the  newspapers  not  hesitating  to  censure  Roy 
for  admitting  that  he  was  tired,  when  in  the  full  tide  of 
success,  of  the  woman  who  had  been  all  in  all  to  him  in 
the  days  of  adversity  and  trial.  Even  Mr.  Armstrong 


THE    GAME  417 

and  the  other  steel  directors  interested  themselves  in 
the  matter,  and,  acting  in  conjunction  with  Mrs.  Dex- 
ter and  other  personal  friends,  made  great  exertions  to 
bring  about  a  reconciliation  before  it  was  too  late,  but 
all  to  no  purpose.  Their  kindly  overtures  were  firmly 
declined  by  Eunice  and  angrily  resented  by  Roy.  He 
declared  that  he  would  not  tolerate  interference  in  his 
domestic  affairs  nor  any  criticism  of  his  conduct.  He 
and  his  wife  did  not  get  along,  they  were  not  happy, 
in  a  word  they  were  incompatible  and  so  they  had 
agreed  to  separate.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be 
said  and  the  preparations  for  the  trial  drew  near. 

Eunice,  meantime,  had  placed  her  interests  in  the 
experienced  hands  of  Richard  Stetson,  a  lawyer  of 
international  reputation  who  had  known  her  father, 
and  he  at  once  set  in  motion  the  machinery  of  the 
law.  Proof  against  human  emotions  as  most  lawyers, 
by  the  very  nature  of  their  profession,  must  neces- 
sarily be,  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  Eunice's  case 
made  a  special  appeal  to  his  sympathies.  The  recital 
of  her  wrongs  not  only  aroused  his  indignation  as  a 
man,  but  whetted  his  appetite  as  a  speaker  of  unusual 
power.  He  saw  in  the  impending  trial  an  admirable 
opportunity  for  another  of  those  brilliant  rhetorical 
flights  for  which  he  was  famous.  What  jury,  com- 
prising men  made  of  flesh  and  blood,  could  hear  un- 
moved such  a  pathetic  story  of  cruel  and  unmerited 
wrong  done  a  faithful  and  defenseless  woman? 


4i  8  THE    END    OF 

Endowed  with  a  splendid  oratorical  gift,  Stetson  held 
a  record  for  never  having  failed  to  convince  the  jury 
that  right  was  on  his  side,  and  directly  his  name  was 
mentioned  in  the  Marshall  divorce  case,  no  one 
doubted  the  outcome. 

As  Pennsylvania  does  not  recognize  desertion  as 
adequate  reason  for  divorce,  it  was  necessary  that 
the  suit  be  brought  elsewhere,  so  months  before  the 
date  fixed  for  the  trial  Eunice  left  Altonia  for  good 
and  took  up  her  temporary  residence  in  the  western 
State  which  held  out  a  promise  of  freedom  from  a  yoke 
which  had  become  unbearable. 

She  did  not  go  unaccompanied.  Mrs.  Dexter,  in 
spite  of  Eunice's  protests  that  she  needed  no  one  and 
could  take  good  care  of  herself,  had  insisted  on  being 
allowed  to  go  along  as  a  companion.  The  careless 
world  of  fashion  had  not  succeeded  in  quite  dead- 
ening the  society  matron's  heart  to  the  dictates  of 
common  humanity.  She  had  learned  to  like  and  re- 
spect this  young  wife  who  had  been  of  their  set,  yet 
never  one  of  them,  and  she  could  not  stand  indiffer- 
ently by  and  see  Eunice  climbing  her  Calvary  without 
a  woman  friend  to  help  and  comfort  her. 

Eunice  had  written  to  her  sister-in-law  Grace,  telling 
her  of  her  intention  to  leave  Roy,  and  asking  if  she 
would  take  charge  of  her  little  namesake  until  the 
trial  was  over  and  she,  Eunice,  could  return.  Grace 
replied  that  she  was  overwhelmed  at  the  news,  and 


THE    GAME  419 

without  knowing  anything  of  the  merits  of  the  case, 
was  convinced  that  her  old  friend  and  teacher  had 
good  cause  for  the  serious  step  she  was  taking.  She 
had  written  Roy,  she  said,  expostulating  with  him 
and  asking  for  his  version  of  the  quarrel,  but  had 
received  no  reply.  She  would  be  delighted,  of  course, 
to  take  entire  charge  of  her  niece. 

Little  Grace  was  still  too  young  to  understand  what 
the  preparations  for  her  mother's  journey  meant. 
The  child  had  never  been  particularly  attracted 
towards  her  father,  and  when  Eunice  replied  in  the 
negative  to  her  question  as  to  whether  papa  was  going 
with  them,  the  knowledge  that  she  might  not  see  him 
for  a  long  time  did  not  seem  to  cause  her  much 
concern. 

But  it  was  different  with  Eunice.  In  spite  of  her 
stoicism  and  the  cold,  proud  exterior  she  strove  to 
keep  up,  her  heart  was  breaking.  It  was  only  by  the 
exertion  of  the  greatest  will  power  that  she  was  able 
to  go  through  the  painful  ordeal  of  shattering  the 
ties  of  years.  Each  little  treasured  article  in  her  room 
was  associated  in  some  way  with  Roy,  and  great  tears 
rolled  dowr  her  cheeks  as  one  by  one  she  wrapped 
them  up  and  packed  them  in  her  trunks.  Then,  for 
hours,  she  sat  reading  old  letters — letters  Roy  had 
written  her  at  various  times  in  New  York  and  later 
in  Glendnle  vears  before,  full  of  ardent  passion  and 
pledges  of  undying  affection.  She  read  them  over 


420  THE    END    OF 

and  over  again,  unable  to  see  the  writing  through  the 
blinding  tears,  and  when  at  last  she  laid  them  down, 
she  reverently  tied  them  up  with  a  blue  ribbon  and 
placed  them  tenderly  away — relics  of  an  irrevocable 
past. 

Roy  had  left  Altonia  some  time  before  and  kept 
away.  A  few  days  before  she  left  for  the  West, 
Eunice  received  this  letter  from  him: 

"I  hear  you  are  about  to  leave  Pittsburg — perhaps  for  ever.  It 
is  better,  I  think,  that  we  don't  meet  again.  It  would  do  no  good 
and  might  cause  both  of  us  pain.  I  regret  this  more  than  I  can  ex- 
press in  words.  If  I  am  to  blame  forgive  me.  I  have  not  wronged 
you  intentionally.  We  were  happy  once  but  times  are  changed.  I 
am  changed — I  admit  it.  I  made  you  unhappy  because  I  was  un- 
happy with  you.  Why  should  two  lives  be  made  miserable?  You 
will  live  your  life  happily,  I  hope  and  trust.  I  will  live  mine  wher- 
ever it  may  lead  me  to.  Remember  me  always  kindly  if  you  can. 
My  little  daughter  is  safer  in  your  hands  than  in  mine — you  will  make 
her  the  good  woman  you  are  yourself.  Good-by  and  God  bless  you ! 

"  ROY." 

This  letter  was  harder  to  bear  than  anything  else, 
and  Eunice  wept  long  and  passionately  over  it.  Then 
she  kissed  it  and  laid  it  away  with  her  other  treasures. 
A  few  days  later  she  left  Altonia  for  the  West,  accom- 
panied by  Mrs.  Dexter. 


THE   GAME  421 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  rickety  little  court  house  had  been  besieged 
since  early  morning  by  a  well-dressed  mob 
of  men  and  women,  anxious  to  hear  the  tes- 
timony and  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  principals  in  the 
notorious  Marshall  divorce  case.  The  prominence  of 
the  millionaire  defendant  and  the  overwhelming  wave 
qf  sympathy  which  had  swept  towards  his  poor  neg- 
lected wife  from  every  part  of  the  country  had  aroused 
the  greatest  public  curiosity.  The  prurient  minded 
hastened  to  secure  good  places  in  the  hope  that  spicy 
details  of  Roy  Marshall's  alleged  philandering  would 
be  forthcoming,  but  in  this  the  sensation  seekers  were 
disappointed,  for  the  suit  was  not  to  be  contested,  and 
therefore  there  would  arise  no  necessity  for  cross- 
examination  of  witnesses. 

Eunice  arrived  early  in  company  with  Mrs.  Dexter 
and  her  special  counsel  Richard  Stetson.  She  was 
also  represented  in  court  by  another  lawyer  of  the 
local  bar.  Seated  near  her  counsel's  table  the  plaintiff 
was  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes.  She  was  heavily  veiled, 
but  that  did  not  entirely  conceal  her  pale  face  and 
dejected  appearance,  which  was  quickly  commented 
upon  in  audible  whispers  by  all  present.  Murmurs  of 


422  THE   END   OF 

sympathy  arose  on  all  sides.  One  felt  intuitively  that 
this  woman  had  come  there,  not  to  triumph  over  an 
adversary,  but  to  weep  over  the  ashes  of  an  extinct 
affection. 

Roy  Marshall  did  not  appear  in  court.  At  thSvt 
moment  he  was  in  New  York,  amusing  himself  in  his 
usual  haunts.  To  him  this  trial  was  the  merest  legal 
formality.  He  had  agreed  to  everything  his  wife's 
lawyers  had  demanded,  so  why  should  he  inconveni- 
ence himself  unnecessarily?  His  interests  were  fully 
looked  after  by  counsel. 

After  the  evidence  was  all  in,  Attorney  Stetson  rose 
to  address  the  jury  and  a  silence  that  was  almost  op- 
pressive fell  upon  the  court  room.  The  veteran  law- 
yer was  in  good  form  and  his  powerful  resonant  voice 
rang  out  with  telling  and  dramatic  effect. 

In  all  the  many  years  in  which  he  had  been  practis- 
ing law,  he  said,  he  had  never  encountered  a  case 
more  pitiful  or  one  having  a  better  claim  to  men's 
sympathy  than  that  now  before  the  court.  It  was  a 
story,  he  went  on,  of  a  faithful  woman  heartlessly  cast 
aside  by  a  husband  merely  because  he  was  tired  of  her, 
as  one  discards  an  old  coat  which  has  outlived  its 
usefulness.  The  suit  was  almost  unparalleled  for  the 
interest  it  had  aroused  all  over  the  country,  and  this 
interest  was  no  less  due  to  the  social  prominence  of 
the  litigants  than  to  the  extraordinary  circumstances 
connected  with  the  case.  Briefly,  he  reviewed  the 


THE   GAME  423 

married  life  of  the  Marshalls.  -Roy  Marshall,  a  college 
youth,  had  been  attracted  to  Eunice  Vincent,  who  was 
his  sister's  paid  companion.  She  discouraged  his  at- 
tentions because  Marshall  senior  had  planned  a  rich 
marriage  for  his  son,  and  being  a  proud,  high-spirited 
girl  she  was  not  willing  to  be  charged  with  having 
alienated  his  affections.  This  point  had  an  important 
bearing  upon  the  present  suit,  as  it  showed  that  Eunice 
Vincent  could  at  no  time  be  reproached  with  having 
run  after  the  young  man  for  his  money  and  position. 
But  Roy  Marshall  persisted  in  his  wooing,  and  finally 
convinced  of  his  sincerity,  she  yielded  and  became  his 
wife.  The  marriage  proved  a  very  happy  one.  The 
young  couple  had  no  money,  Roy  having  quarrelled 
with  his  father;  but  he  was  plucky  and  set  to  work 
Jo  earn  his  own  way  in  the  world,  and  for  twelve  long 
years  they  led  an  existence  of  well-nigh  idyllic  hap- 
piness. 

Yet  there  were  plenty  of  thorns  along  with  the  roses. 
Those  were  the  days  before  Roy  Marshall  had  become 
the  master  of  millions,  when  all  he  was  earning  was 
the  meagre  weekly  stipend  of  the  newspaper  reporter, 
or  later  the  wages  of  a  humble  steel  worker  in  the 
employ  of  the  Excelsior  Company,  and  when  he  had 
to  work  hard  in  order  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door. 
They  were  the  dark  days  of  uncertainty  and  dis- 
couragement, when  he  was  never  sure  of  his  position 
from  one  day  to  another  and  saw  always  stalking  be- 


424 


THE   END    OF 


hind  him  the  gaunt  spectre  of  poverty  and  hunger. 
Yet  even  in  his  most  critical  moments,  even  when  the 
future  seemed  hopeless,  when  everything  had  failed, 
when  he  feared  he  was  incapable  of  earning  a  dollar 
and  was  faced  with  the  humiliating  alternative  of 
going  back  to  his  father  and  admitting  defeat,  Roy 
Marshall  never  lost  heart.  Why?  Because  he  had 
always  by  his  side  a  valiant  young  wife  whose  cheerful 
disposition  had  buoyed  him  up  and  never  allowed  him 
to  despond,  who  cheered  him  when  he  was  most  dis- 
heartened and  spurred  him  on  to  renewed  effort  when 
every  resource  seemed  to  have  been  exhausted. 

Eunice  Marshall  had  been  the  shining  light,  the 
guiding  star,  in  Roy  Marshall's  life.  She  it  was  who 
led  him  on  from  where  he  started  to  the  lofty  position 
in  the  nation's  industry  which  he  occupied  to-day. 
When,  disgusted  with  the  newspaper  business,  he  went 
to  Pittsburg  in  the  hope  of  gaining  a  foothold  in  the 
steel  trade,  his  faithful  wife  went  with  him,  sharing 
with  him  the  early  inconveniences,  the  anxieties,  the 
actual  privations.  She  it  was  who  made  for  him  the 
modest  little  home  at  Glendale,  where  he  spent  what 
were  probably  the  happiest  years  of  his  life.  There 
was  born  their  first  child,  an  event  which  brought  the 
young  parents  even  closer  together.  Throughout  this 
period,  Roy  Marshall  revealed  his  best  qualities. 
Highly  successful  in  his  trade,  rapidly  regaining  the 
respect  and  confidence  of  his  employers,  he  showed 


THE    GAME  425 

himself  in  the  domestic  circle  a  model  husband  and 
father,  never  contented  anywhere  but  at  home,  devoted 
to  his  wife  to  whom  he  acknowledged  he  owed  every- 
thing. At  this  moment  of  their  happiness  a  great 
sorrow  came  into  their  lives.  Their  little  baby  was 
stricken  with  scarlet  fever  and  died.  In  this  terrible 
hour  of  a  common  sorrow,  giving  each  other  such 
mutual  consolation  as  they  could,  the  tears  of  the  dis- 
tracted parents  mingled  as  they  fell  upon  the  coffin  of 
their  child ! 

The  attorney  paused  in  his  speech  like  the  actor  in 
a  drama  when  he  reaches  a  particularly  dramatic  situ- 
ation. One  might  have  heard  a  pin  drop  in  the  court 
room,  so  tense  was  the  attitude  of  the  spectators.  Bent 
eagerly  forward,  they  seemed  unwilling  to  lose  a  single 
word.  Suddenly,  the  deep  silence  was  broken  by  a 
sob  that  came  from  the  corner  where  Eunice  was 
seated.  The  plaintiff  was  seen  to  bend  down  and  bury 
her  face  in  her  handkerchief.  Mrs.  Dexter  and  others 
near  by,  moved  over  to  her,  fearing  she  was  about  to 
faint,  and  some  of  the  spectators,  becoming  excited, 
started  from  their  seats.  The  judge  impatiently 
rapped  for  order  and  announced  that  anyone  making 
the  slightest  disturbance  would  be  expelled  from  the 
court  room.  Mr.  Stetson  glanced  anxiously  at  his 
client,  but  on  being  assured  by  Mrs.  Dexter  that  it 
was  nothing  more  serious  than  an  excess  of  emotion, 
he  proceeded. 


426  THE    END    OF 

If  he  had  entered  thus  fully  into  the  domestic  affairs 
of  the  Marshalls,  he  said,  it  was  because  he  wished  to 
impress  upon  the  jury  that  until  within  the  last  few 
years  the  Marshalls'  home  had  been  an  ideal  one.  Pre- 
viously there  had  been  no  bickerings,  no  misunder- 
standings, no  misconduct  on  either  side.  It  seemed 
that  never  had  a  pair  been  better  mated.  He  wished 
to  lay  particular  stress  upon  the  fact  that  at  no  period 
in  their  married  life  had  Roy  Marshall  reason  to  com- 
plain of  his  wife.  Her  conduct  had  always  been  irre- 
proachable. She  had  ever  been  the  good  mother,  the 
faithful  wife.  She  had  always  done  her  duty  and 
more  than  her  duty. 

The  couple,  he  went  on,  would  have  continued  to 
live  happily  together  and  there  never  would  have  been 
any  talk  of  divorce,  but  for  a  misfortune  which  altered 
Roy  Marshall's  character  and  changed  the  whole  trend 
of  his  life.  After  years  of  comparative  poverty  he 
suddenly  became  enormously  rich.  He  found  himself 
the  possessor  of  many  millions.  To  most  men,  this 
good  fortune  would  have  come  as  the  reward  of  effort, 
they  would  have  rejoiced  to  share  it  with  the  com- 
panion who  had  so  patiently  borne  the  trials  and 
sufferings  of  the  many  weary  years  of  waiting.  But 
not  so  with  Roy  Marshall.  Great  prosperity  only 
brought  unhappiness  into  his  home,  and  broke  the 
heart  of  the  faithful  wife  who  had  long  prayed  for  his 
success.  The  master  of  vast  wealth,  Roy  Marshall 


THE   GAME  427 

was  seized  with  the  money  passion.  He  was  no  longer 
contented  with  the  wholesome  placid  joys  of  the  do- 
mestic circle.  The  great  gay  world  without  allured 
him  and  he  could  not  resist  its  call.  Instead  of 
taking  pleasure  in  his  wife's  company  as  before,  he 
found  her  society  dull  and  commonplace.  He  started 
out  to  make  new  friends,  fond  of  a  gayer  life,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  his  club  saw  him  more  frequently 
than  his  home. 

For  months  his  wife  suffered  in  silence  and  uncom- 
plainingly. She  did  everything  in  her  power  to  make 
her  home  attractive  and  win  her  husband  back.  For 
his  sake  she  entertained  people  she  did  not  like  and 
whom  she  could  hardly  respect.  She  suffered  slights 
and  humiliations  innumerable — all  without  a  murmur. 
Instead  of  mending,  matters  went  from  bad  to  worse 
and  gradually  it  dawned  upon  Eunice  Marshall  that 
the  love  of  her  husband  was  dead  to  her  forever.  The 
situation  became  unbearable.  Her  own  self-respect 
demanded  that  she  should  come  to  an  understanding. 
They  had  a  painful  interview  in  which  he  informed 
his  wife  frankly  that  he  had  ceased  to  care  for  her, 
and  that  it  was  his  intention  to  leave  her  and  live  his 
life  apart  from  her.  Then  it  was  that  she  decided  to 
petition  this  court  for  divorce. 

"  Those,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  are  the  facts  in  as 
cruel  and  heartless  a  desertion  of  a  blameless  wife  as 
was  ever  known  in  the  annals  of  our  divorce  courts. 


428  THE   END    OF 

The  Constitution  of  the  United  States  has  given  this 
woman  certain  well-defined  and  unalienable  rights,  but 
the  unwritten  laws  of  humanity  and  justice  shield  her 
with  even  more  protection  and  sympathy.  She  claims 
the  right  to  be  freed  absolutely  and  forever  from  this 
man  who  has  wronged  her  and  to  be  permitted  to  go 
forth  from  this  courtroom  her  head  erect,  liberated 
from  the  shackles  that  have  become  degrading  to  her 
womanhood,  free  to  go  where  she  elects  and  live  out 
her  own  life  with  her  child.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury, 
this  plaintiff  places  her  case  in  your  hands !  " 

Mr.  Stetson  sat  down,  having  spoken  for  nearly 
an  hour.  He  had  made  an  impression,  not  only  on 
the  spectators,  who,  mostly  women,  were  the  kind  of 
auditors  to  whom  a  case  of  this  kind  would  especially 
appeal,  but  also  on  the  hard-faced  men  in  the  jury 
box.  One  juryman  had  a  suspicious  redness  round  his 
eyes,  while  another  blew  his  nose  loudly.  All  looked 
stern  and  determined.  The  spectators  audibly  ex- 
pressed their  approval  of  the  attorney's  stinging  de- 
nunciation and  at  one  end  of  the  room  someone  raised 
a  cheer,  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm  which  was  quickly 
squelched  by  the  judge,  who  pounded  vigorously  for 
silence.  A  crowd  gathered  round  the  counsel's  table, 
everybody  seeking  to  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Stetson, 
while  Eunice  and  Mrs.  Dexter  remained  quietly 
in  their  seats.  After  the  judge  had  made  his  charge, 


THE    GAME  429 

which  was  considered  to  be  distinctly  favorable 
to  Mrs.  Marshall,  the  jury  retired. 

In  less  than  five  minutes  they  reappeared.  Their 
faces  told  plainly  what  their  verdict  was.  Mrs.  Dexter 
nudged  Eunice. 

"  It's  victory,  Eunice ! "  she  whispered,  thinking  to 
encourage  her. 

Eunice  shook  her  head. 

"  No — not  a  victory !  "  she  said  sadly. 

After  the  judge  had  put  the  usual  question  the  fore- 
man replied: 

"  We  find  in  favor  of  the  plaintiff,  and  award  her 
the  custody  of  her  daughter." 

Mr.  Stetson  sprang  to  his  feet,  a  look  of  triumph  on 
his  face. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  he  cried,  "  the  plaintiff 
wishes  to  express  her  gratitude  for  the  just  verdict 
you  have  rendered.  It  is  a  signal  victory  for  the  cause 
of  right  and  justice,  but  it  brings  no  joy  to  the  poor 
woman  it  sets  free.  As  the  Duke  of  Wellington  wrote 
to  his  government  after  his  victory  at  Waterloo: 
'  Nothing  except  a  battle  lost  can  be  half  so  melan- 
choly as  a  battle  won.'  We  have  no  desire  to  cheer 
over  our  triumph.  Your  verdict  will  not  give  back 
to  my  client  the  happiness  she  has  lost.  Henceforth, 
her  life " 

His  closing  sentence  was  interrupted  by  the  sound 
of  loud  sobbing.  Eunice  had  given  way  and,  leaning 


430  THE   END   OF 

against  Mrs.  Baxter's  bosom,  was  weeping  bitterly. 
She  had  kept  up  bravely  all  through  the  trial  and  until 
the  jury  brought  in  their  verdict.  Then  when  she 
realized  that  this  was  really  the  end,  that  the  law  had 
now  severed  forever  the  ties  that  bound  her  to  Roy, 
that  the  husband  she  had  loved  and  still  loved  was 
gone  from  her  forever,  it  was  more  than  she  could 
bear.  The  sound  of  her  weeping  dominated  every 
other  noise  in  the  court  room. 


At  that  same  moment,  hundreds  of  miles  away,  a 
man  was  reclining  on  luxurious  cushions  in  a  studio 
in  Rembrandt  Hall,  New  York,  listening  dreamily  to 
the  dulcet  notes  of  a  mandolin  to  whose  accompani- 
ment a  woman  was  singing  softly  a  Spanish  love  song. 
Her  fresh  soprano  voice,  vibrating  with  youth  and 
passion,  filled  the  studio  with  caressing  tones,  while 
from  overhead  the  rapidly  fading  light  of  the  late 
afternoon  touched  her  glorious  hair  with  glints  of  bur- 
nished gold. 

Only  once  before  had  Roy  seen  her  look  so  beau- 
tiful. That  was  the  day  he  had  tried  to  kiss  her  and 
she  had  escaped  upstairs  and  mocked  him  from  the 
balcony.  Had  she  a  heart,  this  woman,  or  was  she 
only  a  coquette  exercising  her  wiles  to  lure  men  to 
her  feet  merely  for  the  pleasure  it  gave  her  to  laugh 


THE   GAME  431 

at  their  folly  and  weakness?  He  had  known  her  now 
for  nearly  a  year  and  yet,  all  the  slanderous  gossip 
of  the  world  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  they 
were  nothing  to  each  other  but  good  friends.  Roy, 
exasperated  by  her  teasing  coquetry,  had  at  times  lost 
patience  and  become  ardent,  pressing,  persistent,  but 
each  time  she  had  put  him  in  his  place  with  the  hauteur 
of  a  queen,  only  to  laugh  at  him  a  moment  later  so 
as  not  to  completely  discourage  him.  Young  in  years, 
she  was  sophisticated  enough  in  the  ways  of  men  to 
understand  the  immense  power  wielded  by  a  woman 
who  denies  herself.  Men,  she  knew  well,  are  content 
to  run  after  the  shadow ;  obstacles  only  spur  them  to 
greater  effort.  She  accepted  his  presents,  she  liked 
his  company,  she  enraged  her  other  men  friends  by 
snubbing  them  in  Roy's  favor,  but  beyond  that — 
nothing!  It  was  precisely  the  kind  of  treatment  to 
keep  a  man  of  Roy's  temperament  enslaved.  It  was 
not  long  before  he  lived  only  on  the  smiles  from  her 
lips,  the  light  from  her  eyes.  Eunice,  his  clubs,  bus- 
iness— all  was  forgotten.  Then  came  his  wife's  revolt 
and  demand  for  divorce.  At  first  it  was  a  shock  to 
him  and  yet  in  a  sense  a  relief.  He  had  felt  guilty 
of  treason  to  a  woman  who,  after  all,  had  done  him  no 
wrong,  and  in  a  fashion  he  was  still  fond  of  Eunice. 
One  cannot  tear  up  in  an  hour  a  love  that  has  grown 
out  of  fifteen  years'  constant  comradeship  and  associa- 
tion. He  knew  well  that  he  was  in  the  wrong,  but 


432  THE   END   OF 

he  lacked  the  strength  to  resist  the  call  of  this  new 
fascinating  life  that  completely  enthralled  him,  and 
rather  than  go  on  with  these  continual  misunderstand- 
ings with  Eunice,  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  him- 
self that  a  separation  was  the  only  possible  way  out. 

Yet  as  he  sat  there  listening  to  Cleo  Gordon,  his  mind 
could  not  help  travelling  westward,  to  the  little  city 
where  at  that  moment  he  knew  was  being  enacted  the 
tragedy  which  was  to  make  him  a  free  man.  What 
would  he  do  with  his  liberty — marry  this  woman  ?  His 
heart  gave  a  tumultuous  leap,  only  an  instant  later 
to  be  depressed  with  doubt.  Would  she  have  him — 
would  she  ever  marry  any  one?  He  watched  her 
moodily,  until,  glancing  in  his  direction,  she  noted  his 
grave  air.  Laying  aside  the  mandolin,  she  leaned  over 
toward  the  divan,  her  chin  resting  on  her  two  hands 
supported  by  her  knees. 

"  Why  are  you  so  serious  to-day?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I'm  thinking  of  serious  things,"  he  replied. 

"Of  what  are  you  thinking?" 

"Of  you!" 

"  Of  me — what  are  you  thinking  of  me?  " 

"  I  was  wondering  if  you'd  marry  me  if  I  get  my 
divorce." 

She  burst  into  a  merry  peal  of  laughter. 

"  Marry  you !  You  call  that  serious  ?  Oh,  really 
you  are  a  funny  man !  " 

"  There's  nothing  funny  about  that,"  retorted  Roy 


THE    GAME  433 

petulantly.  "  It's  very  serious  to  me.  You  ought  to 
understand  what  I  feel.  I'm  not  trifling.  Cleo,  would 
you  marry  me  if  I  get  my  divorce?  The  trial  is  over 
by  this  time.  Any  moment  I  expect  to  receive  a  tele- 
gram telling  me  the  result.  Would  you  marry  me  ?  " 

He  bent  eagerly  forward  and  tried  to  seize  her  hand. 
But  she  quickly  withdrew  it  and,  picking  up  the  man- 
dolin, began  to  play. 

"  I  will  answer  your  question,"  she  said  with  an 
elusive  smile,  "  when  you  are  free — not  before.  I  re- 
fuse to  discuss  such  matters  with  a  man  who  is  still 
married." 

At  that  moment  Achmet  entered  the  studio  with 
something  on  a  silver  salver.  Passing  over  to  Roy,  he 
said: 

"A  telegram,  sir.    Is  there  any  answer?" 

His  face  flushed,  Roy  hastily  rose  from  the  divan 
and  snatching  the  yellow  envelope,  tore  it  open.  Cleo 
watched  the  expression  on  his  face  with  languid  in- 
terest. Turning  to  Achmet,  he  said: 

"  No — no  answer." 

As  the  man  retired,  letting  the  heavy  draperies  fall 
behind  him,  Roy  threw  the  telegram  into  Cleo's  lap. 

"  There !  "  he  cried,  "  read  that.  The  divorce  is 
granted!  I  am  a  free  man!  Now  what  is  your  an- 
swer?" 

He  bent  eagerly  over  her.  She  perused  the  despatch 
and  then  calmly  passed  it  back : 


434  THE   END    OF 

"  You  are  unreasonable,"  she  said.  "  Such  a  thing 
is  not  decided  off-hand.  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow — 
manana,  as  the  Spanish  say."  Then  coaxingly,  she 
added,  with  the  smile  he  could  never  resist,  "  Come, 
be  a  good  boy,  sit  down  and  I'll  play  for  you." 


THE    GAME  435 


CHAPTER   IX 

IN  a  private  room  of  a  suite  of  offices  on  the  top 
floor  of  a  Broadway  skyscraper  a  man  sat  before 
a  stock  ticker,  nervously  handling  the  long  ser- 
pent-like tape  as  it  slowly  unwound  from  the  delicate 
mechanism  and  with  sharp  metallic  clicks  told  its 
tragic  story  of  Wall  Street. 

Every  now  and  then  a  smothered  exclamation  of 
impatience  escaped  his  compressed  lips  as  he  keenly 
watched  the  steady  procession  of  cabalistic  figures. 
The  market  was  persistently  going  the  wrong  way. 
Great  Western  88-87  24 -87^ -86-85  24 -85  ^-84-83  24- 
Good  God !  A  drop  of  five  points  in  as  many  minutes, 
where  would  it  stop? 

He  called  his  confidential  clerk  who  was  in  the 
outer  office.  A  bald-headed,  middle-aged  man  wear- 
ing spectacles  entered  the  room. 

"  Hutton,"  cried  the  financier,  "  h — 11  has  broken 
loose  in  the  Street.  Great  Western  has  gone  to 
pieces  under  a  bear  attack.  A  serious  slump  will  hit 
us  pretty  hard.  We  must  boost  the  stock  up  if  it 
takes  all  the  money  I've  got  left.  How  do  I  stand  ?  " 

He  looked  anxiously  at  the  clerk,  who,  like  some 
yassionless  automatic  machine,  began  to  reckon: 

M  Your  losses  on  Coppers  yesterday  were  $400,000 


43 &  THE   END    OF 

and  on  Union  Pacific  the  day  before  $700,000.  Last 
week  you  dropped  $500,000  fighting  the  Jackson  in- 
terests and  you  were  $800,000  to  the  bad  in  the  Bos- 
ton Gas  deal.  Altogether  two  millions  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars  on  the  debit  side  of  the  ledger  in 
ten  days.  Your  cash  balance  at  the  bank  and  bonds 
and  stock  immediately  negotiable  amount  to  about 
three  millions." 

"  Three  millions ! "  cried  his  employer  bitterly. 
"  Three  millions  left  of  twenty  millions !  Well,  what's 
the  odds?  The  quicker  it  goes  the  better.  I  guess 
the  money'll  last  as  long  as  I  do.  It's  the  excitement 
of  the  game  I  like,  not  the  money.  Get  my  broker 
on  the  'phone." 

The  clerk  withdrew  and  the  financier  resumed  his 
vigil  at  the  tape.  The  ominous  ticks  continued :  Great 
Western  83-82^5-82^-81.  He  breathed  hard  and 
an  anxious  expression  came  over  his  pallid,  attenu- 
ated face,  which  every  now  and  then  was  distorted  by 
a  sudden  spasm  of  pain.  One  thing  was  plain — his 
powerful  adversaries  in  the  street  were  doing  their 
best  to  down  him.  It  was  war  to  the  death  this  time. 
At  that  rate  a  million  dollars  would  not  cover  his 
losses  before  the  Exchange  closed  at  three  o'clock. 
Something  must  be  done  at  once  to  check  the  slump. 
The  telephone  rang  and  he  picked  up  the  receiver. 

"  Hello,  Mr.  Seward,  what's  the  matter  with  Great 
Western?" 


THE    GAME  437 

"  Nobody  knows,  Mr.  Marshall.  Some  hostile  in- 
terest is  driving  the  stock  down.  We  are  on  the 
verge  of  a  stampede.  What  are  your  instructions  ?  " 

"  Go  on  the  floor  and  buy  all  you  can  at  83.  No 
matter  what  it  goes  to — buy!  buy!  buy!  The  Harris 
crowd  is  behind  this  attack.  They've  sworn  to  corner 
me  on  that  stock,  but  they  don't  know  who  they're 
fighting.  Buy  all  the  Great  Western  in  sight.  You 
can  draw  on  me  for  three  millions  more  if  you  need 
it  to  turn  the  market.  I'd  spend  my  last  cent  to  beat 
those  fellows." 

Roy  returned  to  the  ticker.  The  slump  continued. 
Great  Western  82-81^-81^-81-80.  Then  as  he 
watched,  there  suddenly  came  a  change.  The  tide 
began  to  turn.  The  bear  raid  was  checked,  repulsed. 
The  ticks  told  the  story:  Great  Western  So%-8ol/2- 
8o>g-8i-8iX-8i^-82-83.  Prices  were  rallying.  The 
worst  was  over.  The  power  of  the  Marshall  millions 
was  making  itself  felt.  His  eyes  eagerly  watching 
the  tape,  Roy  rubbed  his  hands  exultingly  and  his 
face  brightened  perceptibly  as  he  read  and  re-read 
the  encouraging  figures. 

Wall  Street  and  its  fierce  battles  of  dollars  was  about 
the  only  real  interest  that  Roy  Marshall  had  left  in 
life.  Amid  the  feverish  excitement  of  the  gold  lust, 
when  participating  in  the  daily  orgies  of  frenzied 
finance,  he  could  still  arouse  some  of  his  old-time  en- 
thusiasm. When  engaged  directing  some  big  coup  on 


43  8  THE   END    OF 

which  he  stood  to  make  or  lose  millions  he  still  dis- 
played the  same  masterful  qualities  which  had  put  him, 
while  still  in  his  thirties,  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  most 
successful  business  organizations  in  the  world.  But 
outside  of  stock  quotations  everything  palled  on  him. 
Like  the  victim  of  the  morphine  habit  who  soon  dis- 
covers that  the  insidious  drug  has  become  a  deadly 
necessity,  so  Roy  found  that  he  could  not  live  without 
the  constant  stimulus  of  the  money  game. 

Six  years  had  passed  since  that  afternoon  when,  in 
the  studio  in  Rembrandt  Hall,  he  received  the  news 
that  Eunice  had  secured  her  divorce.  He  had  never 
seen  his  wife  since  and  as  far  as  he  was  concerned 
she  had  passed  out  of  his  life  forever.  He  received 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Stetson  in  relation  to  matters  con- 
nected with  the  early  money  settlement,  and  the  at- 
torney informed  him  that  Mrs.  Marshall  had  gone 
to  the  South,  which  henceforth  would  be  her  home, 
and  he  added  that  any  communication  he,  Roy,  wished 
to  make  relative  to  his  daughter  or  any  other  matter 
should  be  sent  in  his  care. 

After  the  first  few  days  spent  in  futile  regrets,  Roy 
Marshall  had  started  in  to  enjoy  to  the  full  the  liberty 
he  had  so  ardently  desired.  He  gave  extravagant  en- 
tertainments at  Altonia,  assisted  by  Leonard  Harvey 
and  his  other  club  cronies,  and  for  months  the  splen- 
did Pittsburg  mansion,  with  all  its  costly  furnishings 
and  art  treasures,  was  the  scene  of  boisterous  supper 


THE   GAME  439 

parties,  all-night  poker  sessions,  gay  proceedings  Be- 
hind drawn  curtains,  of  every  description.  Roy 
plunged  into  the  maelstrom  of  social  gayety  with  an 
abandon  that  amazed  everybody.  The  lights  in  Al- 
tonia  were  practically  never  extinguished.  A  long 
string  of  carriages  stood  at  its  gates  day  after  day 
and  long  into  the  night.  Some  hinted  that  its  master, 
in  thus  seeking  strenuous  distraction,  was  trying  to 
drown  the  still  small  voice  of  conscience. 

Cleo  Gordon  had  been  one  of  the  most  frequent 
and  most  privileged  guests  at  Altonia.  Still  blindly 
infatuated,  Roy  had  invited  the  artist  to  his  home  in 
the  Machiavelian  hope  that  the  beauty  of  the  place 
would  appeal  to  her,  and  that  if  only  lukewarmly  at- 
tracted toward  himself,  she  might  be  seized  with 
ambitktti  to  become  its  mistress.  But  she  soon  let 
him  know  that  he  was  wasting  his  time.  A  strange, 
impulsive,  selfish  creature  without  much  heart  or  real 
feeling,  she  had  no  desire  to  surrender  any  part  of 
her  hard-earned  independence.  It  was  easier,  as  she 
put  it,  to  love  many  than  one.  Her  only  interest  in 
Roy  had  been  that  he  was  different  from  her  other  men 
friends,  and  it  had  amused  and  gratified  her  vanity 
to  encourage  his  admiration.  But  directly  his  atten- 
tions became  serious,  she  decided  he  was  a  bore,  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  show  it.  She  told  him  frankly  that 
she  liked  the  company  of  him  and  his  friends,  and  it 
pleased  her  to  visit  his  house,  but  all  idea  of  a  closer 


440  THE    END    OP 

relationship  was  out  of  the  question,  and  she  intimated 
plainly  that  if  he  wished  them  to  remain  friends  he 
must  not  insist  further.  Thus  snubbed,  Roy  took  her 
at  her  word,  and  although  they  remained  on  good 
terms  he  gradually  lost  all  interest  in  her,  and  little 
by  little  ceased  his  visits  to  Rembrandt  Hall  altogether. 

For  two  years  Roy  Marshall  went  the  pace  which 
kills.  There  was  nothing  in  the  world  that  he  craved 
for  which  his  money  did  not  furnish,  there  was  no 
human  emotion  which  it  did  not  enable  him  to  expe- 
rience. He  owned  fast  horses,  racing  automobiles, 
steam  and  sailing  yachts.  He  gambled  away  fortunes 
at  Monte  Carlo  and  became  a  noted  plunger  in  Wall 
Street.  He  was  as  well  known  on  the  various  race 
tracks  of  the  country  and  in  New  York's  Tenderloin 
as  on  the  streets  of  Pittsburg,  and  the  newspapers  of 
the  country  held  him  up  as  an  awful  example  of  the 
corruptive  influence  of  great  wealth.  In  less  than 
twenty-four  months  he  had  squandered  five  millions 
of  his  fortune.  But  he  soon  tired  of  it.  As  soon  as 
the  novelty  wore  off,  he  became  satiated  and  when  he 
had  drained  the  cup  of  pleasure  to  its  dregs,  he  found 
that  the  after  taste  was  bitter  as  gall. 

When  finally  he  sobered  down  he  began  to  have  a 
sense  of  isolation.  He  was  lonely.  His  old  friends 
deserted  him  and  he  made  no  new  ones.  While  still 
eager  in  the  mad  pursuit  of  amusement,  he  had  not 
lacked  companions.  The  man  with  money  always  has 


THE    GAME  441 

plenty  of  so-called  friends  willing  to  help  him  spend 
it.  But  when  Harvey  and  the  others  saw  that  he  was 
in  earnest  in  his  avowed  intention  to  lead  a  less  stren- 
uous life,  one  by  one  they  dropped  him,  until  Roy  soon 
found  himself  entirely  outside  their  set.  Pittsburg 
now  having  become  distasteful,  he  decided  to  sell  Al- 
tonia  and  take  up  his  residence  in  New  York,  to  which 
he  was  lured  by  the  potent  and  irresistible  attraction 
of  Wall  Street.  He  had  resigned  from  the  presidency 
of  the  Empire  Steel  Company  some  time  before,  after 
a  plain  hint  from  Mr.  Armstrong  that  his  retirement 
would  be  welcomed  by  the  Board,  and,  unable  to  be 
idle,  he  determined  henceforth  to  devote  his  attention 
to  high  finance.  He  soon  showed  the  same  genius 
for  juggling  with  the  stock  ticker  as  he  had  for  steel 
making  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  was  recognized 
as  one  of  the  most  powerful  influences  in  the  Street. 
One  evening  a  few  months  after  his  arrival  in  Man- 
hattan he  had  dined  alone  at  Delmonico's.  It  had 
been  a  heavy  day,  full  of  fierce  strife  and  excitement, 
and  when  closing  time  came  he  was  thoroughly  played 
out.  He  felt  dejected  and  depressed.  There  was  a 
continual  pain  gnawing  in  the  region  of  his  heart  and 
he  felt  miserable  generally,  having  caught  cold  in 
the  damp  November  weather.  So  on  leaving  the  res- 
taurant he  went  straight  home  to  his  house  in  Gram- 
ercy  Park  and  sat  in  his  room  brooding  over  the  fire. 
As  he  watched  the  leaping  blue  flames  of  the  blazing 


442  THE   END    OF 

logs  on  the  hearth,  his  memory  began  to  travel  back- 
ward and  in  his  mind  arose  recollections  of  other 
days.  Had  it  been  worth  while,  after  all?  He  had 
steeped  himself  in  the  pleasures  of  life,  but  he  had 
found  them  hollow,  unsatisfying.  Pleasure,  like  the 
will  o'  the  wisp,  had  danced  tantalizingly  before  him, 
beckoning  him  to  follow  amid  treacherous  quicksands 
and  dangerous  pitfalls,  but  had  always  eluded  him.  Of 
society  and  its  gayeties  he  had  had  enough.  He  was 
weary  of  it.  In  his  mind  he  conjured  up  two  pictures. 
One  was  called  "  The  Pursuit  of  Pleasure."  He  saw 
a  string  of  men  and  women,  dressed  in  the  height  of 
fashion,  holding  each  other  by  the  hand  singing  and 
dancing  round  tables  'where  sat  other  merry-makers 
who  were  eating  and  carousing,  all  careless  of  the 
morrow,  none  noticing  the  grinning  skeleton  sitting 
quietly  at  the  feast.  Then  this  picture  faded  away 
and  another  appeared  in  its  place  called  "  Domestic 
Peace."  He  saw  a  small  and  plainly  furnished  sitting 
room,  and  a  man  sitting  at  a  table  under  a  lamp  busily 
engaged  drawing  mechanical  plans.  At  the  other  side 
of  the  room  there  was  a  cradle,  and  near  it  sat  knitting 
a  young  woman  with  a  look  of  supreme  contentment 
on  her  serene  face.  From  time  to  time  the  mother 
would  bend  over  the  cradle  and  then  she  would  turn 
and  exchange  a  significant  smile  with  her  husband. 
In  a  corner  an  old  Dutch  clock  ticked  off  the  minutes 


THE   GAME  443 

with  solemn  dignity.  From  the  hearth  one  could  hear 
the  loud  purring  of  a  little  black  and  white  kitten. 

Which  picture  had  he  chosen  ?  Ah,  he  realized  now 
that  he  had  wrecked  his  life — not  his  alone,  but  hers. 
There  lay  the  real  and  lasting  happiness — in  the  sanc- 
tity and  peace  of  the  family  circle,  not  in  the  empty 
glitter  of  fashion's  world.  But  he  had  been  too  blind 
to  see  it.  He  had  thrown  away  the  substance  for  the 
shadow.  Never  again  in  this  world  would  he  know 
the  happiness  which  had  been  his  during  those  early 
years  of  his  married  life.  That  was  gone  forever — 
by  his  own  choosing.  He  tried  to  dismiss  the  matter 
from  his  thoughts,  to  forget,  to  divert  his  mind  with 
other  things,  but  he  could  not.  He  had  to  admit  to 
himself  that  he  still  loved  Eunice,  that  he  had  never 
ceased  to  love  her.  Theirs  had  been  the  only  true, 
imperishable  love  and  nothing  could  kill  it,  not  even 
his  own  heartless  and  brutal  treatment.  But  it  was 
no  use  regretting  now,  he  could  never  repair  the 
wrong  he  had  done.  He  must  bear  the  consequences 
of  his  folly  and  drag  out  his  own  miserable  existence 
alone. 

Time  went  by  and  gradually  Roy  Marshall  dis- 
appeared altogether  from  the  haunts  of  the  smart 
set.  He  was  seldom  seen  in  public  places  at  all,  and 
on  the  few  occasions  when  he  did  emerge  from  his 
retirement  everyone  commented  on  his  changed  ap- 
pearance. His  hair  was  now  completely  gray,  his 


444  THE   END   OF 

face  was  furrowed  with  deep  lines,  his  step  had  lost 
its  elasticity.  In  ten  weeks  he  seemed  to  have  aged 
ten  years.  Those  who  saw  him  shook  their  heads,  and 
declared  that  a  secret  chagrin  was  killing  him. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  his  health  had  been  failing  for 
months  and  his  mental  trouble  aggravated  his  con- 
dition. One  day  in  his  office  he  was  seized  with  a 
sudden  faintness  and  severe  pains  in  the  chest. 

"  It's  the  heart,"  said  the  doctor  after  a  careful  ex- 
amination. "  You  are  working  too  hard.  You  have 
overtaxed  your  strength.  You  must  take  a  rest." 

"  Rest !  "  echoed  Roy  mockingly.  "  There  is  no 
rest  for  me  in  heaven  or  hell!  If  I  were  to  stop 
working  now  I  should  not  live  a  week.  It's  only 
the  continual  excitement  that  keeps  me  going.  With- 
out it  I  should  be  like  a  punctured  balloon." 

The  doctor  shook  his  head. 

"  Your  condition  is  more  serious  than  you  think. 
There  is  no  use  beating  about  the  bush.  It  is  my  duty 
to  warn  you  that  you  have  developed  heart  trouble 
of  the  gravest  character.  The  least  excitement  might 
prove  fatal." 

Roy  laughed.  He  had  no  fear  of  death.  What  had 
he  to  live  for?  Death  would  be  even  welcome,  for 
with  it  would  come  eternal  oblivion  and  peace.  His 
conscience  would  cease  to  torture  him  and  he  would  be 
really  at  rest.  So,  instead  of  heeding  the  physician's 
advice  he  had  plunged  more  madly  than  ever  into 


THE    GAME  445 

the  whirling  vortex  of  Wall  Street,  thrown  this  way 
and  that  on  the  tempest-tossed  seas  of  frenzied  finance, 
now  completely  engulfed  under  waves  of  disaster,  now 
emerging  from  what  had  appeared  a  hopeless  wreck. 

To-day  the  enemy  had  resumed  hostilities.  The 
Harris  clique  had  mercilessly  attacked  him  at  his  most 
vulnerable  point.  They  knew  that  he  was  heavily 
involved  with  Great  Western  and  they  were  doing 
their  best  to  force  him  to  the  wall.  If  their  raid  had 
succeeded  and  the  stock  had  been  driven  below  78 
he  would  have  been  wiped  out.  But  thanks  to  his 
prompt  action  he  had  managed  to  turn  the  market 
and  Great  Western  was  again  bullish. 

He  took  up  the  tape  once  more,  a  triumphant  smile 
of  victory  hovering  round  his  lips.  He  had  taught 
those  fellows  a  lesson.  Henceforth,  they  would  know 
that  he  was  no  tyro  to  be  trifled  with.  He  would 
beat  them  at  their  own  game  and  following  up  their 
tactics,  inflict  blow  after  blow  from  which  they  could 
never  recover. 

But  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  figures  he  started  from, 
his  seat  with  a  cry  that  brought  his  clerk  running  into 
the  room. 

Great  Western  80^-80^-79-78^. 

"  Great  God !  "  cried  Roy,  his  face  turning  ashen, 
"  what  does  this  mean  ?  The  price  tumbling  again 
in  spite  of  Seward's  efforts  and  my  millions  behind 
him !  Quick,  Hutton,  get  Seward  on  the  'phone !  " 


446  THE   END    OF 

The  clerk  vanished  and  Roy,  his  hand  trembling, 
with  cold  sweat  running  from  every  pore,  stood  over 
the  ticker  reading,  with  blanched  face  and  every  nerve 
tense,  the  story  of  his  ruin.  Slowly,  deliberately,  as 
if  enjoying  the  mental  agony  of  its  victim,  the  soulless, 
remorseless  machine  ticked  out: 

Great  Western  78^-78^-78^-78-77^. 

"  Ruin !  ruin !  ruin !  "  cried  the  financier  in  a  par« 
oxysm  of  distress.  "  I'm  wiped  out !  " 

The  telephone  bell  rang  furiously.  Roy  snatched 
up  the  receiver. 

"Well,  well,  Seward,  what's  the  matter?" 

"  Pandemonium  has  broken  loose,  Mr.  Marshall ! 
We  were  powerless  to  stem  the  tide.  Your  three  mil- 
lions are  gone — ten  millions  would  not  have  saved  you. 
Several  houses  have  suspended,  all  the  other  stocks  are 
falling  in  sympathy.  There's  a  panic  on  the  floor  of 
the  Exchange." 

Roy  did  not  stop  to  hear  any  more.  The  telephone 
dropped  out  of  his  nerveless  grasp,  and  he  dropped 
heavily  into  a  chair.  He  felt  sick  and  dizzy. 

"Hutton!"  he  cried. 

The  clerk  ran  hastily  in. 

Roy  looked  up  at  him,  in  a  dazed  kind  of  manner, 
one  hand  pressed  over  his  heart. 

"  We're  wiped  out,  Hutton,"  he  gasped.  "  I'm 
ruined — completely  ruined." 

The  clerk  was  alarmed  at  his  appearance. 


THE    GAME  447 

"What's  the  matter,  sir?  Don't  you  feel  well? 
You're  white  as  a  sheet." 

"  Get  me  a  glass  of  water,"  answered  Roy  feebly, 
"  I  feel  faint."  Putting  his  hand  to  his  chest,  he 
added :  "  It  hurts  me  here.  You  had  better  telephone 
for  a  cab.  I — 111  go  home.*' 


448  THE   END    OF 


CHAPTER   X 

A  FEW  miles  out  from  Richmond,  on  the  main 
road  from  Fair  Oaks  to  Virginia's  historic 
capital,  a  picturesque  three-story  frame  dwell- 
ing painted  gray  with  red  tiles,  never  failed  to  catch 
the  eye  of  the  chance  passer  by.  It  was  not  the  im- 
portance of  the  house  itself  that  attracted  attention, 
for  it  was  simple  in  architecture  and  unpretentious 
in  appearance,  suggesting  neither  affluence  nor  so- 
cial prominence  in  its  owners,  but  what  especially  dis- 
tinguished it  was  the  floral  beauty  in  which  the  house 
and  grounds  were  completely  enveloped.  Standing 
back  some  hundred  feet  from  the  highway,  from 
which  it  was  practically  screened  by  a  well-trimmed 
box  hedge,  it  had  a  large  and  carefully  cultivated  gar- 
den in  front  with  well-stocked  flower  beds,  while  on 
either  side  and  extending  away  in  the  rear,  undulating 
green  lawns  stretched  for  a  considerable  distance. 
The  place  was  appropriately  named  The  Arbor  and 
one  surmised  at  once  that  it  was  the  abode  of  a  lover 
of  Nature.  There  were  flowers  everywhere,  of  every 
hue  and  variety  in  season.  Masses  of  clinging  wis- 
taria, red  poppies,  highly  perfumed  hyacinths,  beauty 
roses,  carnations,  morning  glories,  acacias  blossomed 
in  every  direction.  The  flowers  crept  up  the  sides  of 


THE    GAME  449 

the  house  and  insinuating  themselves  round  the  wood- 
work, hung  in  graceful  festoons  over  windows  and 
porch,  making  of  the  place  a  blooming  bower  of  par- 
ticular charm  and  vernal  loveliness,  and  impregnating 
the  air  in  the  immediate  vicinity  with  a  multitude 
of  sweet  scents. 

A  pretty  young  girl  was  busy  m  the  front  garden 
industriously  engaged  raking  the  dead  leaves  of  early 
fall  which  already  littered  the  ground.  She  was 
bright  and  healthy-looking,  with  a  frank,  childish  man- 
ner, and  a  mass  of  unbound  hair  which  fell  luxuriantly 
down  to  her  waist.  Her  face  was  flushed  from  the 
exercise  and  every  few  moments  she  stopped  in  her 
work  to  laugh  and  wave  her  hand  at  the  porch  where 
a.  pair  of  loving  eyes  was  watching  her. 

"There!  That  looks  better  already,  doesn't  it, 
mother?" 

The  child  stopped  to  inspect  one  of  the  beds  and 
gave  a  cry  of  delighted  surprise. 

"  Oh  mother,  come  and  look.  The  morning  glories 
are  coming  out  splendidly.  They'll  all  be  in  bloom 
for  my  garden  party.  Won't  that  be  nice?  I  do  love 
morning  glories,  don't  you,  mother  ?  " 

Eunice  came  down  from  the  porch  and  joined  her 
daughter,  going  with  her  from  one  flower  bed  to  an- 
other, inspecting  all  their  floral  treasures  with  the 
trained  eye  of  a  connoisseur.  The  mother's  arm  was 
thrown  lovingly  round  the  child's  neck. 


450  THE   END   OF 

"  See,  mother !  "  cried  Grace  enthusiastically,  "  look 
at  these  carnations.  Aren't  they  exquisite  ?  " 

"  They  are  all  beautiful,  dear,"  answered  Eunice  as 
she  plucked  a  rose  and  inhaled  its  subtle  perfume. 
"  Flowers  are  Nature's  poetry.  They  were  created 
to  compensate  for  the  ugly,  the  sad  things  of  life." 

"  How  can  anyone  be  sad,  mother  ? "  persisted 
Grace.  "  The  world  is  so  beautiful,  the  grass  and  the 
flowers  smell  so  sweet ! "  Throwing  her  arms  impul- 
sively round  Eunice's  neck  and  kissing  her  she  added : 
"  I  am  happy  as  can  be — you  too  are  happy,  aren't  you, 
mother?" 

A  far-away  thoughtful  look  came  into  Eunice's  face 
and  for  a  moment  she  was  silent.  Grace  repeated  her 
question : 

"  Aren't  you  happy  too,  mother?  " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  answered  Eunice,  caressing  the  child's 
long  silky  tresses  fondly,  "  I  have  everything  to  make 
me  happy,  everything  to  be  grateful  for — an  affection- 
ate little  daughter,  a  beautiful  home,  a  tranquil,  peace- 
ful life.  I  should  be  ungrateful  if  I  complained." 

Six  years  of  peace!  As  Eunice  now  looked  back 
through  the  mist  of  years  it  was  difficult  to  realize  all 
she  had  passed  through.  It  sometimes  seemed  to 
her  impossible  that  she  could  have  endured  that  men- 
tal agony,  that  heartbreaking  anguish  which  finally 
terminated  in  the  divorce  court.  For  months  after 
the  jury  gave  her  the  verdict  which  freed  her  from 


THE   GAME  451 

Roy  Marshall  she  had  been  like  one  in  a  dream,  taking 
no  interest  in  passing  events,  her  mind  practically  a 
blank.  The  emotional  breakdown  in  the  courtroom 
had  been  followed  by  a  complete  nervous  collapse 
and  for  some  time  her  condition  was  so  serious  that 
her  physicians  entertained  grave  fears  as  to  her  re- 
covery. One  paroxysm  of  uncontrollable  grief  fol- 
lowed another.  She  refused  to  be  pacified  or  coo- 
soled,  declaring  that  she  did  not  wish  to  live  longer, 
that  her  future  was  hopeless  and  full  of  terrors  and 
insisting  that  death  was  the  only  solace.  But  she 
was  still  a  young  woman  and  constitutionally  strong. 
This  saved  her.  As  time  passed,  her  outbursts  of 
grief  became  less  violent  and  gradually  she  grew 
calmer.  She  still  mourned  her  lost  happiness,  but  she 
now  awoke  to  the  fact  that  she  had  a  child  to  live 
for,  and  her  conscience  told  her  that  while  there  was 
still  duty  to  be  done,  her  own  sorrow  was  only  selfish. 
She  clasped  her  little  daughter  to  her  bosom  and  re- 
solved to  live  and  be  happy  again  for  her  sake. 

She  decided  to  leave  forever  the  scenes  associated 
with  the  wretched  past — Pittsburg,  New  York,  Bos- 
ton— and  to  go  South,  where  no  one  would  recognize 
her  under  the  name  of  Mrs.  Vincent  as  the  wife  whom 
die  millionaire  steel  maker  had  deserted.  BidtSng 
farewell  to  Grace,  Mrs.  Dexter  and  her  other  friends, 
she  went  to  Virginia  where  she  believed  she  could 
start  life  anew  and  forget.  When  her  affairs  were 


452  THE    END    OF 

settled,  with  the  kind  assistance  of  Mr.  Stetson,  she 
found  she  had  an  income  of  $10,000  a  year,  which 
was  more  than  sufficient  for  her  ample  wants,  and  her 
first  step  was  to  purchase  The  Arbor,  situated  only 
a  few  miles  out  of  Richmond,  and  which  appealed  to 
her  not  only  for  the  natural  beauty  of  its  site  and 
environs,  but  because  it  offered  that  seclusion  from 
the  world  which  she  sought. 

So,  in  this  idyllic  spot,  far  from  the  noise,  turmoil 
and  excitement  of  the  big  cities,  living  tranquilly  with 
her  child  amidst  the  flowers  she  loved  so  well,  Eunice 
had  found  a  haven  of  comparative  contentment  and 
peace.  She  could  not  banish  the  past  altogether  from 
her  memory,  she  was  unable  to  blot  out  entirely  Roy's 
image  from  her  heart,  but  as  the  years  passed  the 
wound  became  less  painful.  Wearied  and  crushed  in 
spirit,  here  at  least  she  could  rest  after  life's  rough 
journey,  and  devote  the  remainder  of  her  days  to  the 
bringing  up  and  education  of  her  child — his  child. 

She  had  heard  nothing  of  Roy  directly  since  the 
day  she  left  Altonia,  From  time  to  time  she  saw  his 
name  mentioned  in  the  Richmond  newspapers,  but  as 
the  paragraphs  always  evoked  cruel  memories  she 
preferred  not  to  see  them.  She  knew  vaguely  that  he 
had  resigned  from  the  steel  company,  a  step  which 
she  had  long  expected,  and  she  understood  that  he 
had  become  a  big  operator  in  Wall  Street.  Beyond 
that  she  knew  nothing.  Sometimes  she  found  herself 


THE   GAME  453 

wondering  if  he  were  happier  now  than  before  or  if 
he  ever  felt  regret.  But  she  never  willingly  permitted 
her  thoughts  to  travel  in  that  direction.  That  part 
of  her  life  was  a  sealed  book  forever. 

One  old  friend  only  had  accompanied  mother  and 
daughter  to  their  new  home  and  that  was  the  faithful 
Katy.  Eunice  had  been  very  fond  of  the  girl  ever 
since  the  Glendale  days  when  she  first  went  to  them 
to  act  as  nurse  for  poor  little  Teddy.  When  later  they 
moved  to  Altonia  she  was  for  a  time  Eunice's  per- 
sonal maid,  but  when  little  Grace  arrived  she  was 
given  charge  of  the  baby  and  she  grew  so  attached 
to  her  ward  that  gradually  she  had  become  an  in- 
dispensable part  of  the  Marshall  household.  Con- 
fronted, therefore,  with  the  alternative  of  parting  with 
Grace  or  sharing  their  exile,  the  girl  had  willingly 
followed  them,  much  to  Eunice's  satisfaction,  for  not 
only  did  she  regard  her  as  a  friend  and  companion 
but  she  could  be  implicitly  trusted,  and  she,  Eunice, 
was  spared  all  anxiety  in  regard  to  Grace. 

In  addition  to  Katy  there  was  Liza,  an  elderly  col- 
ored cook,  a  typical  Southern  mammy,  fat  and  good- 
natured,  who  had  been  with  them  ever  since  they  first 
came  to  Richmond.  These  two  woman  servants,  to- 
gether with  Pete,  a  colored  handy  man  who  looked 
after  the  furnace,  cut  wood  and  took  care  of  the 
horse  and  buggy,  constituted  their  entire  household. 
Eunice  had  not  been  long  in  making  friends  in  the 


454  THE   EWD   OF 

neighborhood.  She  had  rather  avoided  people  of  her 
own  class,  but  the  poorer  folk  of  the  district  soon 
found  that  they  were  made  welcome  at  The  Arbor. 
Nothing  pleased  Eunice  so  much  as  to  fill  her  arms 
with  packages  of  delicacies  for  the  sick,  or  bundles 
of  clothing  for  the  destitute,  and  go  from  cabin  to 
cabin,  from  farm  house  to  farm  house,  distributing 
her  largesse,  little  Grace  trotting  gravely  along  at 
her  side,  unconsciously  absorbing  the  object  lesson  in 
altruism.  It  was  the  same  Eunice  as  of  old.  Only  the 
time  and  place  were  different. 

Thus  what  with  her  own  domestic  duties,  looking 
after  Grace,  attending  to  the  needs  of  the  numerous 
pensioners,  or  fostering  the  growth  of  her  beloved 
flowers  Eunice  found  the  time  pass  quickly  and  pleas- 
antly enough,  and  that  was  now  just  why  she  had  re- 
plied to  Grace  that  she  had  no  reason  to  complain. 

Her  reflections  were  suddenly  disturbed  by  a  sten- 
torian voice  calling  from  the  porch: 

"O  Missy  Vincent!  Missy  Vincent!  Yes,  marm!" 

Eunice  and  Grace  looked  up.  It  was  Mammy- 
rotund  and  comfortable,  her  white  teeth  glistening; 
her  broad  shiny  face  expanded  in  a  grin. 

"O  Missy  Vincent,  marm!  Is  you  seen  Katy?  I 
search  everywhere  but  she  ain't  nowhere — no,  marmJ  " 

Eunice  could  not  refrain  from  laughing,  Liza  rolled 
her  eyes  so  ludicrously. 

"  I  sent  Katy  to  the  stores/'  she  said.    "  Shell  be 


THE    GAME  455 

back  presently.  See,  there  she  is  now,"  she  added, 
pointing-  up  the  road. 

Grace  dropped  her  rake  and  ran  to  meet  her  nurse, 
who  held  up  something  white  as  she  came  along. 

"  A  letter,  probably,"  said  Eunice.  "  I  told  her  to 
drop  in  at  the  Post  Office  and  see  if  there  was  any- 
thing for  us." 

Yes,  it  was  a  letter.  Eunice  took  it,  recognizing  the 
envelope  which  bore  the  familiar  letter  head  of  her 
old  attorney,  Richard  Stetson.  She  wondered  what  he 
could  be  writing  to  her  about.  The  envelope  seemed 
bulky,  too.  She  tore  it  open,  and  found  it  contained 
another  smaller  letter  which  was  sealed.  There  was 
a  brief  note  from  Mr.  Stetson  explaining  that  the 
enclosed  letter  addressed  to  her  had  come  in  their 
care  and  that  they  had  immediately  forwarded  it 

Glancing  at  the  superscription  on  the  enclosed  en- 
velope, Eunice  turned  deathly  pale.  Only  too  well 
did  she  know  that  handwriting.  For  a  moment  her 
heart  stood  still,  then  started  beating  with  redoubled 
energy.  Roy  had  written  to  her  after  all  these  years ! 

She  glanced  round  furtively,  afraid  that  she  had 
betrayed  her  emotion,  but  no  one  was  watching  her. 
Grace  was  playing  with  Katy,  and  Liza  had  disap- 
peared. Quietly  leaving  them  in  the  garden,  Eunice 
hurried  to  the  house  and  took  refuge  in  her  bedroom, 
where  she  bolted  the  door  and  once  more  took  up  and 
examined  the  letter. 


456  THE     END    OF 

It  was  dated  two  days  previous  and  bore  the  New 
York  post  mark.  The  writing  was  certainly  Roy's,  al- 
though there  was  something  about  it  that  looked  un- 
usual. It  seemed  shaky  and  uncertain.  She  wanted 
to  tear  it  open  and  then  she  stopped.  Was  it  right 
for  her  to  receive  letters  from  him?  Should  she  open 
it  and  read  what  he  had  to  say  or  was  it  more  dig- 
nified to  return  it  to  him  unopened?  What  could  he 
have  to  say  to  her  after  all  these  years?  Why  open 
old  wounds?  Yet  why  should  she  not?  It  must  be 
something  important  or  he  would  not  have  written 
her.  There  was  no  good  reason  why  she  should  not 
treat  him  the  same  as  any  other  stranger  who  sent  her 
a  communication.  They  were  now  nothing  to  each 
other.  The  past  was  past.  There  was  no  further 
reason  for  hostility  or  rancour  on  either  side.  Her 
woman's  natural  curiosity  helped  to  enforce  these  ar- 
guments and  with  trembling  fingers  she  broke  the 
seal.  The  letter  read  as  follows: 

"  No.  —  Gramercy  Park, 

"  New  York  City. 
"DEAR — STILL  DEAR  AND  BELOVED  EUNICE! 

"Only  one  thing  could  ever  give  me  the  courage  to  address  you 
again  in  this  old  familiar  way — the  knowledge  that  I  shall  soon  be 
beyond  all  human  animosities.  I  am  dying,  Eunice.  I  was  fatally 
stricken  in  my  office  yesterday  and  the  doctors  say  I  cannot  live 
much  longer.  It  is  heart  trouble,  aggravated  by  worry  and  this  ex- 
citing, feverish  life  I  have  led.  But  it  does  not  frighten  me — the 
thought  of  death.  On  the  contrary,  I  welcome  it  as  a  blessed  re- 


THE   GAME  457 

lief  to  my  mental  tortures,  the  anguish  of  which  I  cannot  describe. 
But  what  is  the  use  of  talking  now  about  remorse — regret  for  my  past 
insane  follies  ?  I  have  forfeited  all  right  to  appeal  to  you.  My  bitterest 
moments  are  when  I  stop  to  realize  the  cruel  wrong  I  did  you.  You, 
probably,  have  nothing  but  contempt  and  scorn  for  me  in  your  heart, 
yet  you  were  always  charitable  and  sympathetic  to  others.  Perhaps 
you  are  not  entirely  deaf  to  mercy  for  me.  I  would  die  easier, 
Eunice,  if  I  could  hear  from  your  lips  that  you  have  forgiven  me. 
In  the  hour  of  death  we  throw  off  the  cloak  of  proud  reserve,  human 
wrongs  fade  away  as  nothing  in  the  presence  of  the  Eternal.  We 
are  only  frail  children  of  Nature,  regretting  our  follies,  beseeching 
pardon  of  those  we  have  wronged.  I  would  like  to  see  you,  Eunice, 
before  I  die — just  once  more — to  feel  your  soft  cool  hand  on  my  hot 
brow,  to  look  into  your  tranquil  gray  eyes  and  read  there  that  you 
nourish  no  resentment.  Don't  refuse  to  come,  Eunice.  It  is  the  last 
prayer  of  a  dying  man.  Come  to  me  not  as  to  your  husband  who 
wronged  you,  but  as  to  a  human  being  who  needs  you  to  soothe  his 
last  moments.  Come  quickly.  There  is  not  much  time.  It  is  the 
last  service  I  shall  ever  ask  of  you.  ROY." 


The  letter  dropped  from  Eunice's  nerveless  grasp 
and  she  sank  onto  a  chair,  faint  and  sick  and  trem- 
bling in  all  her  being.  Roy  ill — dying!  Such  an 
eventuality  had  never  occurred  to  her  as  being  within 
the  range  of  possibilities.  Scalding  tears  filled  her 
eyes  as  she  pictured  him  lying  all  alone  there  in  New 
York,  and  her  heart  was  stirred  by  infinite  pity.  After 
all,  he  had  been  all  in  the  world  to  her  once,  he  was 
the  father  of  her  child.  One  forgives  and  forgets 
everything  at  such  a  crisis  as  this.  A  big  lump  seemed 


458  THE   END   OF 

to  rise  ap  in  her  throat  and  be  choking  her.  Bowing 
IKT  head  orer  the  back  of  the  chair,  she  wept  bitterly. 
Bat  it  was  only  a  moment's  weakness.  A  moment 
later  she  rose  from  her  chair,  a  look  of  resolution  on 
her  face.  It  was  a  time  not  for  tears,  but  for  action. 
Going  to  the  window,  she  called : 

"Kary!" 

"  Yes,  m'm ! "  replied  the  girl 

"Hare  Pete  harness  the  horse  at  once,  and  come 
wp  and  help  me  pack  a  few  things.  I'm  going  to  catch 
the  foor  o'clock  train  for  New  York." 


It  was  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning  when  Eunice 
reached  Gramercy  Park,  that  last  oasis  of  dignified 
quiet  and  well-bred  refinement  left  in  the  heart  of 
the  big  metropolis.  The  house  was  on  the  left  side 
of  the  square  as  her  hansom  entered  from  Fourth 
Avenue  and  the  tan  bark  which  had  been  laid  on  the 
street  to  deaden  the  noise  indicated  plainly  enough 
that  she  had  arrived  at  her  destination.  At  first  she 
did  not  dare  look  at  the  house,  fearing  to  be  con- 
fronted by  some  terrible  and  unmistakable  sign.  See- 
ing nothing,  she  was  reassured.  Thank  God,  she  was 
not  too  late !  She  went  up  the  steep  stoop,  to  the  old- 
fashioned  portico  which  was  hidden  almost  entirely 
with  hry,  and  her  heart  beating  violently,  she  rang  the 


THE    GAME  459 

muffled  bell  The  door  opened  almost  instantly  and 
a  nan  servant  appeared. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Marshall,0  said  Eunice  timidly 
and  stepping  inside. 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

"  Impossible,  madame,"  he  said  in  a  tone  as  if  sur- 
prised at  the  unreasonableness  of  die  request.  "  Mr. 
Marshall  can't  see  any  one.  He  is  very  fll,  «ta«fam^ 
very  in  indeed." 

But  Eunice  brushed  past  him. 

"  He  will  see  me,"  she  said  imperiously  and  with  a 
tone  of  authority  which  made  the  man  stare.  "  Mr. 
Marshall  expects  me.  Which  is  his  room?" 

"  One  flight  up,  madame,  in  the  front,"  replied  die 
man  more  deferentially. 

Eunice  went  up  the  broad,  thickly  carpeted  stair- 
case. On  the  first  landing  she  found  further  progress 
barred  by  a  trained  nurse  who,  attracted  by  the  al- 
tercation downstairs,  had  sailed  out  of  die  sick  room 
armed  with  all  the  authority  of  her  professional  uni- 
form to  see  what  was  die  matter. 

"Which  is  Mr.  Marshall's  room?"  demanded 
Eunice. 

"Yon  cannot  see  Mr.  Marshall,"  said  die  mme 
firmly.  "His  condition  is  extremely  critical.  The 
slightest  exciterr.er.c  mich:  prove  is.nl.  The  doctocr 
have  forbidden  visitors  absolutely.1* 


460  THE    END    OF 

"  I  must  see  him,"  said  Eunice  firmly.  "  He  ex- 
pects me." 

"Are  you  one  of  the  family?"  inquired  the  nurse, 
still  preventing  her  further  advance. 

Taken  by  surprise,  Eunice  for  the  moment  did  not 
know  what  to  reply.  Then  quickly  recovering  her 
self-possession,  she  said  with  an  effort : 

"Yes— I  am  his  wife!" 

The  nurse  immediately  fell  back  with  a  murmured 
apology. 

"  Excuse  me,  madam,  we  have  to  be  so  careful. 
Your  husband  is  very  low." 

Eunice,  her  heart  sinking,  every  fibre  trembling 
with  suppressed  emotion,  passed  on  into  a  large  dark- 
ened chamber.  Coming  in  from  the  light,  at  first  she 
could  hardly  see  anything.  Then,  gradually,  the  out- 
lines of  a  bed  became  visible,  and  in  it  she  saw  a 
man  lying  as  if  asleep.  Fearing  to  wake  him,  she 
stopped  short  on  the  threshold. 

"  You  can  go  right  in,"  said  the  nurse.  "  He  is 
not  asleep.  He's  been  lying  like  that  for  hours.  I 
think  he  must  have  been  waiting  for  you,  for  at  times 
he  has  muttered  indistinctly  something  that  sounded 
like:  'Will  she  come?'" 

"  Is  he  dangerously  ill  ? "  she  whispered  to  the 
nurse,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "we  didn't  expect  he'd  get 
through  the  night." 


THE   GAME  461 

Eunice  could  scarcely  control  herself.  She  felt  if 
she  could  only  burst  into  a  violent  hysterical  fit  of 
weeping  what  a  relief  it  would  be. 

She  advanced  into  the  room  and  approached  the 
bed  softly.  Roy's  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  win- 
dow and  he  did  not  see  her  enter.  If  he  heard  the 
step,  he  probably  thought  it  was  the  nurse,  for  he 
did  not  move. 

For  a  minute  Eunice  stood  looking  at  him,  restrain- 
ing only  with  difficulty  the  impulse  to  throw  herself 
on  her  knees  sobbing  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  How 
changed  he  was,  how  thin  and  gray!  Ah,  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  he  had  suffered.  She  called  him  gently 
by  name : 

"Roy!" 

It  was  so  low  that  it  sounded  like  the  whispering 
of  the  wind.  Yet  the  sick  man  heard  it  He  started 
up,  but  the  effort  was  too  much  for  him  and  he  sank 
back  exhausted  on  his  pillow. 

"Roy!" 

He  turned  and  saw  her.  A  glad  light  came  into 
his  eyes,  a  flush  overspread  his  ashen-gray  face  and 
he  extended  an  emaciated  hand.  With  a  little  cry 
Eunice  sprang  forward  and  sank  down  by  the  bed, 
burying  her  face  in  the  clothes,  unwilling  that  he 
should  see  she  was  crying.  The  nurse  had  discreetly 
withdrawn. 


462  THE   END   OF 

u  So  you  came — after  all ! "  he  said  in  a  weak  voice. 
"  it  was  good  of  you  to  come." 

"  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  sooner?  "  she  moaned. 
"You  should  have  telegraphed." 

"I  didn't  know  where  you  were.  I  wrote  to  Mr. 
Stetson  asking  him  to  forward  the  letter.  Besides," 
he  added  with  painful  hesitation,  "  I  have  no  claim 
upon  you." 

She  rose  and  sat  in  the  chair  by  his  bedside. 

"The  sick  always  have  a  claim  upon  those  who 
have  health,"  she  answered  evasively.  "  If  I  had  been 
sent  for  immediately,  perhaps  matters  would  not  be 
so  serious." 

Roy  shook  his  head  and  a  sudden  spasm  of  pain 
made  him  wince. 

"  No,  Eunice,  no  earthly  power  can  save  me  now. 
It's  all  up  with  me — it's  the  end  of  the  game.  Last 
night  I  thought  I  was  dying — my  heart  seemed  to 
stop — I  felt  myself  sinking — a  deathly  chill  came  over 
me,  but  I  fought  against  it,  I  struggled  to  live  because 
something  told  me  you  would  come." 

Unable  to  control  herself,  Eunice  was  weeping 
silently,  the  tears  coursing  down  her  cheeks  un- 
restrained until  they  fell  on  Roy's  hand  which  still 
clasped  hers. 

"  Don't  cry,  Eunice  dear,"  he  said  gently,  "  it  is 
better  so.  Death  is  the  only  expiation  I  can  offer  for 
the  wrong  I  did  you.  Don't  think  I  have  not  suffered 


THE   GAME  463 

all  these  years.  Long  ago  I  discovered  that  I  bad 
thrown  my  happiness  away.  Day  and  night  I  have 
been  haunted  by  thoughts  of  you.  I  have  seen  your 
face,  wistfully  reproaching  me,  wherever  I  was,  what- 
ever I  was  doing.  I  felt  I  could  not  die  in  peace 
until  I  had  heard  from  your  own  lips  that  you  had 
forgiven  me." 

"  I  forgave  you  long  ago,  Roy,"  she  murmured  fc- 
tween  her  sobs. 

"And  my  little  daughter?    Is  she  well?" 

"  She  is  well  and  happy." 

"And  you — are  you  happy?" 

"  I  am  contented.  We  have  a  beauti-ful  home  down. 
South,  I  am  happy  in  caring  for  my  child." 

"  Then  I  can  die  in  peace,"  he  murmured,  sinking 
back  on  his  pillow,  his  eyes  half  closed. 

Eunice,  alarmed,  rose  and  bent  over  him, 

"Roy!  Roy!"  she  cried. 

He  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  feebly  at  her.  She 
took  his  thin  hand  in  hers  and  pressing  it  to  her  lips, 
fell  on  her  knees  by  the  bed. 

"Don't  talk  of  death,  Roy!"  she  cried.  "Live! 
Live  for  my  sake.  We  can  still  be  happy  together. 
The  law  has  separated  us,  but  those  whom  God  has 
mated  no  man  may  put  asunder.  I  love  you,  Roy!  I 
have  never  ceased  to  love  you — all  these  years — in 
spite  of  all.  You  have  suffered — you  have  atoned. 


464  THE    END    OF    THE    GAME 

Roy — husband — live  and  get  well  for  my  sake !  Come 
back  to  your  wife  and  child !  " 

Roy  listened  with  eyes  wide  open,  as  if  doubting 
the  evidence  of  his  ears.  He  rose,  by  a  superhuman 
effort,  to  a  sitting  posture,  a  look  of  exultant  joy  came 
over  his  face,  he  stretched  out  his  arms  and  Eunice 
fell  on  his  breast,  his  tears  mingling  with  hers. 

Suddenly,  he  gasped  for  air  and  put  his  hand  to  his 
heart.  His  face  grew  livid  and  he  fell  back  on  his 
pillow.  Eunice,  in  an  agony  of  fear,  called : 

"Nurse!  Nurse!" 

The  nurse  entered  quickly  and  hurried  to  the  bed. 
For  a  moment  she  stood  over  him,  her  hand  on  his 
pulse.  Suddenly  her  face  became  grave. 

"Shall  I  telephone  for  the  doctor?"  asked  Eunice 
anxiously. 

The  nurse  shook  her  head. 

"  It  is  useless,"  she  said.    "  He  is  pas|  all  aid." 


THE  END 


LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  040  451 


